**********************
Disclaimer: Not
mine. No money. Don't sue.
They're still Pet Fly's, but thankfully they no longer have anything to
do with up of n. I'm just borrowing
them for a brief time. The story
however, is all mine.
Archive: yes
please. GL and CT. Ronnee’ll send an official announcement when
she gets it posted.
Thanks to:
Becky–for
reminding me Carolyn is a good guy and should get to come out and play more
often. Not to mention the fact that there are unresolved issues there that are
kind of fun to explore. No she doesn’t
make an actual appearance, but there is some definite communicating going on
here.
Ronnee–for
offering to loan and then graciously letting me borrow AJ for a moment. Or at least the idea of her; she doesn’t
make an actual appearance. And for
helping me figure out how to get Blair out of the house. Thanks dear! How was I to know she wanted to be part of the family... <g
All the writers
and readers who believe that OFC, heck OC, are a good thing.
Claire, Wnne,
Ronnee, Angie, TAE, Cindy, Rona, and countless others–for being supportive and
telling me to ‘go for it’ when I asked if this was a good idea. And then encouraging me to finish when I had
second thoughts.
A big thanks to
my betas Claire, Ronnee, TAE, and Wnnepooh.
Thanks ladies, your input made this a better story and helped me get out
of some jams I’d written myself into.
Any mistakes that remain are mine and mine alone. What can I say, I can be rather stubborn
about some things.... Okay, just about
everything.... <g
Warnings:
Slight
references to Cypher (sort of.
Is there anyone who doesn’t know about the Blessed Protector thing by
now?), The Debt, Sentinel Too, parts 1 and 2, a previous story of
mine that hasn’t been finished yet entitled Out of Darkness into Light
(I’ll get there eventually, but it keeps getting pushed to the back burner so
be patient with me. Encouragement helps
though... <grin>). There are slight references to Blair being a cop, but
nothing overt.
This is one of
three stories. All told in first person
from different points of view. While
each stands on its own, they do build upon one and other. Together they form a triptych of sorts, but
in an act of defiance (me defiant? No
way!) I wanted them all to be separate.
Individual snapshots that stand on their own, but mean more when
displayed together. This said, I
recommend you read all three of them.
And the biggest
warning/ disclaimer of all.... There’s
an OFC here. You are forewarned.
Feedback, both
positive and constructive, welcome.
Flames will be shared with numerous people for our edification and
enjoyment before being used to light a large bonfire on the Asylum lawn.
**************
If Only, Fear:
Kathleen
by
Toni Rae
My eyes flutter
open as I feel movement beneath me.
Automatically I tense, for a moment forgetting where I am. My fight or flight instincts, so close to
the surface as of late, take over.
Before I can follow through on my desire to run, memory returns in a
flash.
Jim.
Slowly I force
my muscles to relax. The sudden
cessation of adrenaline leaves me shaking.
I feel the hand
resting on my back begin to move in a slow circular pattern. Murmured words and incomprehensible sounds
of comfort reach my ears, their meaning far less important than their tone.
As I continue to
tremble the arms around me tighten, as if to offer additional comfort and
reassurance.
Slowly my
trembling subsides, as does the residual fear.
The arms, however, remain. Steel
bands of protection from whatever elements out to destroy me. There is reassurance in their unwavering
strength; the ability to banish demons in their constitution.
If only the
bands of steel could banish the internal demons as easily as the external
ones.
If only it were
that easy.
A small sigh
escapes my lips. The feeling of safety
almost overrides the memories of before.
Almost.
I remember all
too well the last time I sought comfort and safety in another’s arms. In an ironic twist, the bands of steel I
thought protected me from harm, in fact, turned into the means of my
imprisonment. Chains to aid in my own
destruction.
I won’t let it
happen again.
I can’t.
I don’t think I
could survive a second time.
How easily one’s
delusions are destroyed.
I once thought
that love conquered all. Okay, so it’s
cliche, but that doesn’t make it any less believable.
Sounds a little
odd for a scientist, though. The
absolute belief in something beyond comprehension, or even definition. I’m supposed to believe in the cold hard
reality of fact. The truth in
reality. You have to see it to believe
it. There is no place for the
phantasmagoric in my world.
But then, what
is science if not an exercise of faith?
We convince ourselves that we can prove the existence of certain things
and concepts, but underneath it all we rely on faith. We accept the missing links, the theories we cannot prove, the
formulas we can’t replicate, not without question, but we do accept.
If I can accept
the missing links, why can’t I accept that Jim is not David. Why do I have so much trouble trusting this
will all work out. That he will not
leave me a battered and bruised shell as he moves on to something, or someone,
more interesting. That he will not
destroy me in fear and rage over his own failures.
Maybe because
I’ve been here before.
The only person
Jim would destroy is himself. And then
only in the event he’d failed Blair. I
don’t even kid myself with the thought I fall into this category. The most important person or thing in Jim’s
life is Blair. Everyone, and
everything, else in his life comes second to the man sitting at the kitchen
table. I know this deep inside. My heart has complete faith in Jim. The rational side of my brain, the
scientist, however, doesn’t remember how to trust. It’s amazing my heart does.
I only hope the power of my heart has the ability to override my head.
David did more
than abuse my body. He shattered my
illusions. Extinguished my belief in
the overarching power of love. Drowned
any vestiges of hope with the impact of a cold metal pipe against my skull.
And to think I
thought I loved him.
And to think I
thought he loved me.
That’s probably
the worst part. He destroyed my belief
in myself. Not to mention my belief in
others. He made me doubt my instincts,
question my judgement.
Because of him,
I have no faith that I will make the right decisions. Choose to be with the right people. Spend my life following the correct path.
In short, my
self-confidence is shattered.
The truly sad
part about all of this....
No one seems to
know.
I move through
the days as if nothing happened. As if
nothing has changed. As if I am the
same person as before.
How easily we
create new illusions to replace those lost.
This time my
illusions have the power to hurt others besides myself. I’ve involved others in the scam that has
become my life.
I wonder if they
realize...
And how can I
tell them?
And how can I
not?
My thoughts
spiral further downwards. With a
supreme effort of will I suppress the tears I feel threatening to fall.
That’s something
else I’ve gotten very good at, suppressing my emotions. Hiding my feelings. Avoiding confrontations. Keeping myself aloof from others. That way I can avoid the inevitable
disappointment when they turn away.
But if I’ve
gotten so good at these things, what am I doing here? Laying on a couch that is not my own, safely encased in another’s
arms. Contemplating the rest of my
life. Hoping I haven’t made the same
mistake twice. Praying with my head
that I learned from the last one.
Knowing in my heart the choice has already been made, the die has
already been cast, the commitment has already been made.
But what happens
if I’m wrong.
Again.
I try to shake
my head in denial of the thought only to find I am unable to move. Jim’s strong hand holds my head safely
against his chest while his other rubs slow circles up and down my back. Strange.
I didn’t even feel him move.
Have I become
that unaware of my surroundings? That
comfortable in his presence? That safe
in his arms?
Trust.
The word comes
unbidden to mind. My heart trying to
knock some sense into my traumatized brain.
For now I accept
my heart’s decree. I trust him.
If I stop to think
about it, I trust him in ways I never trusted David. I can tell him things David never knew. I can also fall asleep in his arms. Something that took a very long time with David.
I trust Jim will
watch over me. Keep me safe from
harm. These are things David never did.
Trust wins out
this time and I allow myself to finally completely relax. I sink back into sleep, my fears locked
behind the door I erected to keep them at bay.
A slight
movement brings me back to slight awareness.
I feel the couch move gently beneath me. Before I can determine the nature of the movement, it stops. My fingertips encounter a soft surface,
almost fur-like. The sensual feel of
the surface under my hands entices me.
My fingers move of their own violation, drawing my arms into the
substance. I snuggle into the soft
cocoon in which I’ve found myself, content in my surroundings.
Slowly, my mind
returns to awareness. I realize I’m now
holding a large teddy bear and Jim is gone.
Softly my eyes flutter open to confirm my assessment. The darkness of the living room meets my
eyes, as I lift my head slightly from the warm embrace of the teddy bear. I smile slightly at the memory of Jim winning
the bear at a local high school carnival.
He’d been so proud of his accomplishment. Jokingly we’d named him x.
Somehow, the treasured bear had ended up at the loft and not in my small
brownstone near campus.
And I’ll admit
it. I like the fact that he keeps the
bear safe for me. Just as I know, deep
in my heart, he’ll keep me safe. And x
looks after Jim. Kind of a mutually
beneficial arrangement, if you ask me.
Besides, Jim has
a soft spot for furry animals.
Now, it served
as a Jim-surrogate. Every time he left
me, he made sure the bear was there to watch over me. What good the bear was going to do in the even of real danger,
I’ll never know, but it makes both of us feel better knowing I’m not alone.
Like now.
Realizing there
is a warm weight across my feet, I raise my head slightly to look down. The large green eyes of a black jaguar greet
me, as it raises its head to meet my gaze.
Turning my head slightly, I notice the grey wolf inhabiting the spot
between my feet and the edge of the couch.
It is his head keeping my feet warm.
See what I mean about furry animals?
We’d been
introduced the hard way. Back when Jim
and I’d first met. The animals showed
up just about the same time David did.
Warning of the danger and destruction he was bringing.
David. Why is it my thoughts keep returning to
him? Haven’t I exorcized those demons
yet?
The fact that
the spirit animals trust me enough to watch over me, comforts me. They accept me enough to allow me to stay –
a rather unusual occurrence, from what I understand from Blair. Though their presence is reassuring, it does
not transcend the walls of fear that still surround my heart.
It shocked Jim –
Blair too, for that matter – when I pointed out their presence in the loft one
evening. Since then I’ve come to
appreciate their presence. Depending on
their watchfulness. Realize that as
long as I can still see them, I will still have a place in Jim’s life.
The soothing
cadence of voices, the words indistinguishable without effort, reaches my ears,
confirming my suspicion that Jim had left my side for Blair’s.
I want to resent
the close relationship between my boyfriend and his best friend, but I can’t
bring myself to do so. I care too much
about both of them. That and I realize
they need each other.
Neither would be
the people they are today without the other.
Their lives are too far interconnected to separate them. Almost like Siamese twins, you can’t
separate them without serious damage to both.
Jim can’t live
without Blair, and Blair can’t live without Jim. They are a world unto themselves. The only question is, does this world allow visitors? And for how long?
That’s what
scares me the most. That there is no
room in his life for me. I realize he
doesn’t need me, but I hold out the illusion that there is room in his life for
me. Even a small part will work. But I’m becoming like Blair, I can’t live
without him either.
Coming in second
to Blair, that I can live with. Second
means I’m still in the running, not waiting back at the starting line. I’ll gladly accept second, without even
blinking an eye. ‘Cause, this is one
race I really don’t think I want to win.
It goes back to that indefinable thing that binds them together.
They share
something beyond my comprehension.
Something I dare not examine too closely. They are connected in ways I can only dream. It goes way beyond them being Sentinel and
Guide. Neither one will ever say much
about that relationship, outside of acknowledging that it exists. Not that they need too. I knew Blair well enough before Chancellor
Edwards decided to ride the coattails of his research to doubt for a minute
he’d compromise his integrity by submitting a false dissertation. No.
They didn’t need to bring me into their confidence. But I’m glad they did. It just showed how much they trusted me.
But there’s
still something there outside of my grasp.
Some facet of their relationship that I’m not even sure they’re aware
of.
But will it
consume them?
It’s already
done so once. Can it happen again? What happens if it does?
And the most
selfish question of all, is there room left for me?
And what am I
going to do if there isn’t?
The graceful
cadence of voices continues behind me, distracting me from my own turbulent
thoughts. Which is probably a good
thing. Too much thought is never a good
idea. Especially when it comes to
relationships. Unfortunately I’ve never
been one of those people that can just accept, the scientist in me wants to
analyze.
Believe me, this
is often a problem with stoic, keep my feelings to myself Ellison. Sometimes I think he’d rather have a root
canal than discuss our role in the grand scheme of life. A question that has always fascinated
me. What are we doing here? Why?
What role are we to play in one another’s lives? What brings certain people together?
Jim just nods
and smiles cryptically when I ask him about fate. If he believes certain people are together for a reason? Then he changes the subject, or distracts me
in someway. The issue of faith brings
the same response.
And let’s not
even talk about having a conversation about our relationship. I think he’d take major surgery without the
anesthesia over that one. Unfortunately,
I need the reassurance he hasn’t provided.
I seek the answers to questions I didn’t even realize I have. There is so much of Jim that remains a
mystery to me that I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t even know if he wants me to?
Why is it only
Jim prompts this insecure response from me?
In everything else I’m confident, but when it comes to my relationship
with Jim, all bets are off.
The voices
become more distinct as I continue to listen.
Unbidden the conversation begins to reach my ears. Though I want to, I can’t not listen. I feel like a voyeur, listening in to their
private thoughts, but almost like a car wreck, I can’t force myself away.
“She’s the last
piece of your soul.” Blair’s words
startle me. The thought that Jim needs
me, or that I have a place within his soul is almost more than I can
comprehend. I hold my breath waiting
for Jim’s response; half expecting to hear a heartfelt denial.
“Yeah. But if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have a
soul to complete.” The breath I’d been
holding leaves my body in a rush. Where
I’d expected denials I’d gotten a soft acceptance. I don’t quite know how to deal with the sudden knowledge that Jim
thinks I complete his soul.
Hard on the
heels of knowledge comes another question.
Why didn’t he tell me? What is
it about our situation that keeps him from confiding in me. Keeps him from bringing me fully into his
life?
The questions
spiral out of control. I consider
answers and reject them without even realizing I’ve done it. One thought finally clarifies itself in my
addled brain.
I complete his
soul. I guess this means that he
believes in the existence of souls. I
smile slightly to myself at the realization that one of the mysteries of
Ellison has been solved. Now all I have
to do is pin him down on the subject of soulmates and reincarnation. I realize Jim’s quiet admission to Blair is
paramount to a declaration. My heart
warms slightly at Jim’s affirmation.
Reality returns
with a frightening awareness as I realize I can’t pin Jim down on any of these
subjects. Outside of his reluctance to
discuss mystical issues lies the fact that I’m not supposed to know. But how can I not? How can I pretend I don’t know?
I’ve never been very good at make-believe.
“I just want
what you have.” Blair’s words bring me
out of my spinning thoughts and I realize I’ve missed parts of the
conversation.
Blair’s words
once again throw me for a loop. What
does Jim have? What is it that Blair
envy’s? What is it about Jim’s life
that can cause the heartache I’ve seen in Blair for the past few weeks?
And why won’t
Jim tell me what it is?
My tortured
psyche returns to the question Jim’s admission caused. What is it about me that won’t allow Jim to
admit his feelings?
About me.
My earlier fears
come crashing down around my body, smothering me. I can hardly breathe, for their weight.
Jim can’t admit
how he feels, because of me. The answer
to my question clarifies itself into a strikingly clear geode. I’m the problem. There’s something wrong with me.
My breath
hitches in my chest, as the geode turns into ice and lodges itself in my heart.
He loves me, but
he doesn’t want me. I’m damaged
goods. David did this to me.
My worst fears
manifest themselves in my mind, lodging securely in the garden of doubt I’d
been secretly growing in the far recesses of my heart, behind tightly locked
doors. But now, the door was open. Blown out in a force so extreme, nothing
could contain it. The fear and doubt
I’d hidden carefully from everyone, including myself overwhelmed me, drawing me
down into its swirling maelstrom of self-destructive emotions.
Even as I fight
the spiraling whirlwind, Blair verbalizes my worse fear. “You’ve got it all. A great woman who loves you. The perfect job. Friends. And here I am
trying to figure out what my life’s all about.”
I don’t know
what the hell I’m doing here. What
purpose is my life serving? Am I doing
either Jim or Blair any good by being here?
Who knew Blair shared the same doubts I did? He always exudes such self-confidence, such a matter-of-fact
assurance of his place in the world.
The importance of his being at Jim’s side. Nice to know I’m not the only one emotionally rattled by Ellison.
The first time I
saw them together I intuitively recognized their importance to one
another. Amazing how Blair can’t see
it.
“I also have the
little brother I’ve always wanted – not to mention the one I’ve always
had. A Guide. And let’s not forget I have an in with the
Shaman to the Great City. As for
you...” Jim’s words confirm my earliest
intuitions. Amazing how I can know
where Blair belongs when he doesn’t.
Amazing how Blair can know where I belong when I don’t.
“You are exactly
where you belong. I know that it
doesn’t seem like it sometimes but I couldn’t survive this roller coaster ride
without you. I said it before, you are
the best partner I’ve ever had. And
that was before you became an actual cop.
Your love of learning and life did not end with that press conference.”
Jim’s words
could have been meant for me the way they wormed their way into my heart,
banishing the destructive emotions with well-placed swords. I always knew Jim could slay dragons if
given half the chance. I can’t keep the
grin from forming on my face. The image
of Jim in tights and a tunic is almost more than I can stand.
A man who would
say these things to Blair would never reject me because of something someone
else did. There is no censure in his
words. No censure in his
mannerisms. The reality of our
situation reasserts itself in my chaotic soul.
Carefully I lock my fears back behind their door, this time reinforcing
the door itself, as well as the locks with a portion of Jim’s belief in
me. Somehow Jim banished my fears at
the same time he banished Blair’s.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your
fault.”
“I know.”
Their words
continue to wash over me and I feel a slight lightening of my own soul. Though I don’t know what they are talking
about, somehow, I know that something profound just occurred behind me. And whatever it was, it sent shockwaves
throughout the entire loft.
I’m surprised at
my reaction to their catharsis. In
someway I’m tied to both of them, though I can’t even begin to guess how. I think the fickle hand of fate has stepped
in and taken control of my world. I was
destined to be here, at this point in time.
The realization comes slowly.
For all my
belief in fate and faith, to find it at work in my own life is a little
disconcerting. A rueful smile
accompanies my thoughts.
“Thanks. That helped.”
“What helped?”
“Your forgiving
yourself.”
So, Blair felt
something too huh? The similarity of
our emotions and experiences was beginning to scare me.
“You lost me
there, Chief.”
Ah, Jim’s
reluctance to discuss otherworldly things strikes again. Maybe I should have my conversation about
fate with Blair, then the two of us can gang up on Jim and finally get him to
talk about this stuff.
“And how do you
know that I forgave myself?”
“I felt it. It seems the joining of our spirit guides
did more than revive me.”
Spirit
guides? I look back down at the animals
at my feet. Okay, maybe Jim’s not as
reluctant to talk about some of these things as I thought. Maybe it’s me again? The doubts leak out of their well-reinforced
room. Damn. I thought I’d gotten them back in successfully. Guess not.
The spirit guide
thing intrigues me. Jim has never
struck me as the type to practice new age religions. Or maybe that’s old religions.
Or maybe that’s just religion in general. Jim always seems so self-contained, not needing anyone other than
Blair. While I know of, and acknowledge
his sprit guide, him joking about the large, fierce looking jaguar at my feet
throws my entire image of him out of balance.
I’ve been out of balance quite a lot this evening. Funny, I think I’ve been more off-balance
since I met Jim than in my entire life.
Strange, for someone who seems to always be in control, he seems to
prompt a lot of out of control behavior and emotions in his friends.
“I really am
doing what I’m supposed to be doing.
Aren’t I?” My attention returns
to the two men behind me. Blair needed
reassurance too, huh? I never would
have guessed. Amazing how we have
doubts where others don’t. Jim’s easy
words convey his long belief in his friend’s path.
“Yeah, you are.”
I only wish I
were as sure of my place in his life.
His earlier words not withstanding, he’s never mentioned long term
plans. He’s never mentioned that he
loved me. Without the words, I have
trouble believing in the reality of his feelings. That and he hasn’t mentioned to me that I complete his soul.
“I’m ready to
settle down. You know, a wife, two
point five kids, a dog.”
Me, too,
Blair. Me too. Now all I have to do is convince a certain
stubborn detective. Strangely, I was
suddenly confident about my place and importance in Jim’s life. Their conversation was doing as much for me
as it was them. Maybe I should tell
Blair he has healing words. Nah,
wouldn’t want to encourage him. On the
other hand¼
I wonder how he
feels about the idea of children. I’ve
always wanted to be a mother. That’s
something else David and I didn’t have in common. All the signs were there?
Why didn’t I see them? Kids and
dogs made him recoil. I should have
known better. I refuse to let myself go
back down that road. I can see the
swirling darkness at the end of it, even from this safe distance away. Maybe I should ask Jim about keeping the
darkness at bay. He seems to be so good
at it.
The image of Jim
playing with a small toddler comes unbidden to mind. Her light brown hair framing a heart-shaped face. Her scowl matching Jim’s. His enjoyment of the baby doll in his arms
proof of his devotion and love for the little girl. The look on her face evidence of her knowledge that she has her
daddy wrapped around her little finger – and she loves every minute of it.
I smile to
myself.
Nothing to worry
about there. Jim was born to love
children – small animals too.
“Watching you
and Kathleen together. It makes me long
for that other person I need to fill my soul.
I really do want what you’ve got.”
“It doesn’t
happen overnight.”
“I know
that. It just feels like it’s time.”
“Sandburg, you
sound like a woman with a biological clock.”
Not surprisingly, Jim’s words mirror my own thoughts. We’ve become strangely attuned to each other
in the nine months we’ve been together.
Almost like an old married couple, we often finish each other’s
sentences.
“Men have
biological clocks too. There have been
studies.” Okay, I didn’t expect Blair’s
response. Funny, he would have done
studies on men’s biological clocks. The
depth of that man’s research interests never fair to amaze me. But then, first hand experience is a good
ground for research, or knowledge, for that matter.
“Not now
professor. I understand. Why do you think I married Carolyn?”
“You married
Carolyn because you wanted a wife, two point five kids, a dog, and a house in
the suburbs?”
“Not
exactly. I married Carolyn because it
was time for me to settle down and start working on the future of the Ellison
dynasty. The house in the suburbs was
never part of the plan.”
And here I had
this romantic image that he’d married because he loved her. Yet another illusion shattered. Though, the practical side of me rejoiced at
the question and his answer. Not to
mention the implications behind it. If
he didn’t love her romantically, I didn’t have to worry about him ever
regretting losing her. But in someways
it makes it all the more confusing. Why
didn’t they stay together, she was everything he was looking for...
“Um. Didn’t you think her career might get in the
way of those two point five kids?”
Blair’s words almost bring me off the couch. Carolyn’s career got in the way of their marriage. Somehow I could see that of Jim, but
her? For some reason that didn’t fit
the image I’d painted of her in my mind.
Course, the idea of Jim marrying for anything other than love was a
little hard to adjust to.
“I had to start
somewhere Sandburg. A wife seemed the
logical place. And the kid part, we
never quite got that far.”
“Um,
Jim.... Kathleen’s got a career
too.”
Uh-oh. Part of the problem begins to become
clear. He thinks that my career is more
important then he is. Whatever gave him
that idea? Events of the past few
months begin to replay themselves in my mind.
Jim going to faculty parties with me.
Jim picking me up at the lab for a late dinner. Jim sitting through another one of my guest
lectures at another university.
Oh God.
He thinks my
career is the most important thing in my life.
How could he be
more wrong?
“I know.” His words confirm my suspicions.
“Have you asked
her?”
“No. It really doesn’t matter. Even if she doesn’t want to have kids, I
still love her. I’m not going to give
up on her because of some stupid genetic predisposition.”
Genetic
predisposition?
He loves me?
The two thoughts
war within my head, fighting for dominance.
“Oh man.”
“That pretty
much sums it up.”
“What are you
going to do?”
“Nothing.”
Nothing? What does nothing mean? I don’t think I like the sound of
nothing. That means we keep going the
way we have been. And now that I’m
starting to realize he loves me, I don’t think I can do that.
I don’t think I
can go back to just being the girlfriend that sleeps on the couch two nights a
week.
“Nothing as in,
‘I’m not going to ask her about having children’ nothing. Or nothing as in, ‘I’m not going to pursue
this relationship’ nothing.”
Once again,
Blair’s words mirror my thoughts. I
really need to take him out for drinks some night and talk about this cosmic
connection we seem to be having where one James Joseph Ellison is concerned.
“Nothing as in,
‘I’m not going to ask her about having children.’ I don’t think that I could let her go at this point. And I’m too afraid of her answer to ask.”
Somehow his
words do not reassure me. Not that he
was trying to, mind you. He was trying
to work something out in his own mind.
How was he to know I was listening in?
The image of the
little girl returns. Only this time
she’s sitting with an infant baby.
Gently cooing to the small form, Jim stands behind the couch. Watching to make sure the little girl
doesn’t drop her baby brother.
Where his words
did not reassure me, the images do.
Unexpectedly,
other images began to march across my subconsciousness.
Jim giving me
his coat as we were walking downtown.
The sudden change in the beautiful fall afternoon – sun turning quickly
to clouds and then rain. My light
jacket, while warm enough for the afternoon, was not sufficient to ward off the
driving rain.
He’d quickly
given me his jacket as soon as he’d noticed my shivers. The soft warmth of the leather enveloped
me. Made me feel safe again.
Though whether
those shivers were from the sudden rain, or the bleak landscape the clouds
brought to light, I’ll never know.
Then again,
neither will he.
Or maybe he
already does? Seeing as how he can read
my every emotion with the raise of an eyebrow, it wouldn’t surprise me.
Then there was
the brief struggled that ensued when he asked for it back. I could feel the smile emerging on my face
at that memory. He’d never expected me
to be quite so stubborn about it. The
battle of wills was good for both of us.
I’d lost in the end – it’s awfully hard to argue with someone who’s far
bigger than you are. But the fact that
he even let me protest did wonders for my still shattered dignity.
Course, I still
would have liked to keep the jacket.
Trust.
I think that’s
when I started to trust again. Not just
him, but a semblance of myself.
If it wasn’t
then, it was Christmas.
My first
Christmas here in Cascade. I’d left the
majority of my friends in Seattle, and with everything that had happened that
fall, hadn’t had time to make new ones.
My parents planned a month long cruise, and wouldn’t be home.
So I was alone
for the first Christmas of my life.
Jim took pity on
me.
Or maybe it was
Blair.
I’ll never know.
It was Jim that
issued the invitation, so it’s on his head that this rests. The carefully worded invitation. Spend the day with us, at the loft. We’ll do everything, if you’ll make your
famous chocolate cake for dessert.
How he’d known
that chocolate cake was the traditional Christmas dessert in my family, I’ll
never know.
That seems to be
a reoccurring theme when it comes to this man and our relationship.
Somehow, I think
he called my mother. And what a
conversation that would have been to listen in on.
I don’t care how
he knew.
Or how he did
it.
It was the best
Christmas of my life.
The food and the
company had been excellent. Almost the
entire Major Crimes group had been there.
Each brining their own special holiday tradition.
Simon made
eggnog. Course, I still think he had
more rum in it than nog.
AJ made
traditional South American wedding cookies.
And ribbon candy. The latter,
she claimed as a tribute to her “American roots.” She refused to say a word about the cookies – even after Ellison
teased her unmercifully for over an hour.
H. brought the
music. More to the point, he brought
his bass. He and Blair spent all day
playing traditional, and not so traditional carols.
Megan brought
Australian sugar cookies. Much to the
chagrin of the rest of the group. She
took quite a bit of teasing over the distinctive “outback” shapes she’d
crafted.
Rafe brought a
delicate glass ornament that he hung carefully on the tree. Sitting by the fire after dinner, he softly
relayed the story of The Littlest Angel and how it’d been his favorite
Christmas story when he was a kid. The
angle herself had been in his family for generations, and always served to
remind him how lucky he was.
Joel and Lydia
brought traditional southern fare:
sweet potatoes, the ones with the little marshmallows melted on top;
corn chutney; grits. And he graced us
with his amazing voice, the gently words of ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas
flowing gently from his mouth.
Jim and Blair
took care of everything else. The loft
was decorated beautifully. The tree
twinkled in the soft afternoon light.
The garland hung from the upstairs banister providing a subtle
fragrance, overlaid with soft vanilla and the smells of cooking. The turkey and all it’s trimmings cooked to
perfection.
Mother Nature
provided the snow. Making it a far
longer holiday than anyone would have realized – but they were prepared. Jim said it was cleansing. The city needed it after the fall we’d had.
I know I sure
did.
And the most
amazing part... They made me feel like
I belonged there. That I was part of
the group. That my being there wasn’t
anything out of the ordinary.
More shreds of
dignity were restored on that long winter’s evening.
I think if I
wasn’t already completely devoted to that man by that evening, the soft kiss
under the mistletoe hung near the balcony would have melted any remaining
reserves. From that moment on, he had
my heart, my soul, and my entire well-being in his hands.
And I have to
admit, he’s never once abused that trust I placed in him.
Wonder why it’s
taken me this long to realize it?
Wonder why I still have doubts?
Wonder why I can’t completely trust that he’s not David?
Maybe I can...
Not realizing
it, I sink back into sleep, images of children playing occupying my dreams.
“Kathleen. Katy.
Kit,”
Words tickle at
my subconsciousness. I ignore their
gentle pull and snuggle closer to the bear in my arms.
A pressure
descends on my lips. Still inside a sleep
induced fog, I lash out instinctively.
My arms attempt to strike at the nearest available object. Still unsure of my surroundings, admittedly
more asleep than awake, I continue to defend myself to the best of my
abilities. My fists flail wildly. Occasionally they encounter a soft, but
immobile surface. I try to lash out
with my feet, only to find them immobilized by a soft weight against the couch.
Eventually, I
grab a hold of something. Instinctively
recognizing that my actions have caused pain, I refuse to let go.
“Shh... It’s just me. No one’s going to hurt you.
It’s okay. Shh.”
Again, soothing
words reach my ears, in an attempt to calm me.
Slowly, the soothing sounds began to take form.
Slowly, my grip
loosens as I recognize the source of the words.
Jim.
Oh God.
What have I
done?
I can feel the
emotions cross my face. Awareness. Apologies.
Shame.
I feel myself
being pulled into strong arms. Their
strength forcing my head against his chest.
Keeping me from my initial inclination to hide in the back cushions of
the couch. I knew if I could find a
spot for my head he would go away.
Leave me alone. Allow my
mortification to consume me.
Soft words break
through the litany of curses I am mentally calling myself.
“Shh. It’s okay.
Nothing to be afraid of. You
didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.” The words trail off into nonsensical phrases
meant to be soothing.
Eventually, the
words break through the barrier I am slowly erecting around my heart. Carefully, the warmth surrounding me
penetrates my carefully constructed defenses.
Slowly I raise my head and look him in the eyes – almost subconsciously
expecting to find censure, though there is none.
“So, are you
spending the night or am I taking you home?”
Somehow that was
not the response I was expecting. I
know that he doesn’t blame me for my actions.
I can see it in his eyes. I
heard it in his voice earlier. But
those long held emotions and self-doubts cannot be erased in a single
nights. Though the initial seeds have
been sown. With time and nurturing they
will grow.
I pull away even
further. By his raised eyebrows I can
tell my expression has once again turned wary.
I wish I could make him understand.
It is not him. It is me. There is this intangible “thing” between
us. One that I would happily
extinguish, if only I could. Somehow I
know that it is going to take both of us to make this particular demon
disappear.
“Spending the
night.” I finally answer the
question. Now sure what the appropriate
response is in this particular situation.
How does one ask for the comfort they know they so desperately
need? How does one make sure their
intentions are not misconstrued?
Oh, don’t get me
wrong. I’d love to have Jim Ellison
sharing my bed in more than a plutonic fashion. But I also recognize that I want it all. His heart, his soul, his complete
devotion. Just sharing a bed is not
enough.
I wonder if he
realizes that is the reason I keep pushing him away?
Keep his
affections at a distance?
I was never a
one-night-stand kinda gal anyway – but
then I think he knew that. At least I
hope he did...
He runs his
finger down my cheek, his words soft, “Okay.
Go wash your face and brush your teeth.
I’ll go make sure the sheets on my bed are clean.”
My eyes widen at
his words.
I can see the
conflicting emotions cross his face. Oh
lord, I’ve done it again. Made him feel
inadequate about my emotions.
Damn.
“It’s
okay.” I try to repair the damage my
oh-too expressive face has caused.
Makes me wish for my mother’s poker face. She could always get away with anything, she covers her emotions
easily.
Me, I wear my
heart on my sleeve. Visible for anyone
and everyone who cares to look. Course,
most people don’t even bother to try.
That’s part of what makes Jim unique, he took the time to read past the
careful facade I’d created to help me get through the day. Now, he can read me better than anyone else
in the world, including my mother.
“I can sleep
down here. I just don’t think I could
face going back to my house. Too many
open spaces for me to think in.” The
words are out of my mouth before I have a chance to realize their meaning.
“You can sleep
upstairs. I’ll sleep down here.”
A raised eyebrow
forestalls any further comment I might make.
I really am perfectly capable of sleeping on the couch, he’s just too
stubborn to let me.
Or too much of a
gentleman.
“Thank you.”
He leans forward
and brushes his lips gently against mine.
There is understanding and love there.
“Now, go brush your teeth.”
“But I didn’t
bring my toothbrush.” I answer
automatically, still reeling from the emotions carried in the simple brush of
lips against mine.
“That’s
okay. There’s an extra one sitting on
the counter in the bathroom. I’ll bring
you something more comfortable to sleep in.”
He kisses me
again, silencing the thank you poised on my lips. With feral grace, he stands, then pulls me to my feet. He walks me across the loft, leaving me at
the bathroom, as he moves the rest of the way upstairs.
Flipping on the
light, I shut the door softly behind me.
My feet encounter a soft mass, and I look down to find several towels
littering the floor. I laugh
softly. Apparently Blair’s not as
housetrained as Jim would like to think.
Bending over, I
place the towels in the hamper – a mere inches from where the towels had come
to rest. Straightening, my eyes fall on
a basket sitting on the back of the toilet.
The large purple bow beckons me closer.
My fingers
unconsciously reach out to finger the soft silk of the bow. Catching the tag I lean over to read the
tag.
To Kit
Thought you
might need a few things to make you feel more at home.
Love Jim
PS: This stuff
is staying here. You already have a set
at home.
I expected to
see Blair’s handwriting, and the knowledge that the basket was from Jim, to me,
takes several moments to penetrate my still sleep fogged brain.
As I stand
staring dumbly at the gift, my hands still fingering the bow, a short knock
sounds at the door. Before I even have
a chance to react, it opens a crack and a worn t-shirt and a pair of flannel
boxers appear on the edge of the sink.
The sight of the
outfit Jim always lends me to sleep in, serves to snap me out of my
lethargy. Pulling the basket into my
arms, I sit on the edge of the bathtub to sort through the things Jim thought I
might need.
Shampoo and
Conditioner.
Both blackberry
scented from the specialized bath store in the mall downtown.
Perfume oil.
French vanilla –
also from the specialty store.
Body wash.
Raspberry –
speciality store.
And a green
nylon scrubbie, complete with long string to hang it on the wall.
I smile at the thought
of Jim braving both the mall and the calliope of scents in the unique
store. Almost more than anything, that
image assails many of the lingering doubts.
A bottle of
cleansing soap for my face, my favorite brand.
A bottle of hand
lotion, my favorite brand.
A bottle of
moisturizer, also my favorite brand.
A razor and a
bottle of shaving cream.
A bright pink
toothbrush and a tube of toothpaste.
Several brightly
colored scrunchies.
A package of
small barrettes.
A package of
large barrettes like I usually use to tie my often unruly hair away from my
face.
And at the very
bottom of the basket, providing the padding for everything else, a soft, green
terry cloth robe.
The generosity
and thoughtfulness of the gift brings new tears to my eyes.
At the same
time, it reaffirms my place here. My
sense of belonging.
I wonder how he
managed to identify all the things I like, not to mention the scents.
Laughing
slightly at myself, and my inane question, I start finding homes for all the
new items. Knowing, even as I do so, it
will drive his sense of organization out of kilter. Smiling evilly, I try to find the most obscure places to store
things.
The rest of my
bedtime preparations pass in a haze.
With the familiar items at hand, the nightly ritual – normally missing
at the loft – takes less time than normal.
I place everything in its new place.
Change my clothes and finally emerge from the bathroom; my new robe
wrapped firmly around my body.
“Took you long
enough.” His words startle me and I
look around for the source, only to find him sitting on the stairs leading up
to his bedroom.
“Waiting for me,
were you?” I toss easily back, my
earlier words of thanks forgotten in the automatic response to his banter.
A large smile
graces his face at my words.
“Well now, would
it do any good if I were?” He adopts a
ridiculous Texas accent, making his words all the less serious.
“Don’t
know. Depends on what you’re looking
for.” I smile suggestively, before
making my way up the stairs; knowing he will follow.
This too is part
of the game we play. The verbal
sparing. The easy banter. The enjoyment we take from one another’s
company.
“You know, this
would be far more fun if I got to stay up here with you...”
His voice wafts
up the last few stairs. I turn away
from the stairs to hide the grin forming on my face.
“Katy. I’m sorry.”
I realize my
mistake when his words reach my ears.
“For what?” I spin to face him;
the smile intact, knowing I have to reassure him. Convince him that nothing has changed.
Except it has.
I’m no longer
afraid of him.
“Uh.”
My questioning
look produces a rather cosmopolitan response, I think. I have to love Jim Ellison at a loss for
words. Though, I’m not sure exactly
what he’s at a loss for at the moment.
“Everything
okay?” I change the usual banter,
trying to figure out where we got lost in the usual repartee.
“Fine. Off to bed with you now.” He reaches over to take my robe. Placing it carefully on the end of the bed,
he pulls back the covers.
Smiling at his
sudden loss of self-assuredness, I crawl gratefully beneath the covers. It has been a long day, and a long week, and
I am ready to sink back into the oblivion of sleep. I know that we still have things to discuss. Issues to resolve. But not tonight. Tonight
was emotionally draining for all of us – and I don’t even know half of what he
and Blair talked about. I can see the
tired lines in his face.
I reach out to
catch his hand where it rests gently near my neck. It can never be said this man doesn’t do a good job of tucking
someone in. I want to express the words
pounding at both my head and my heart, but I cannot. Something holds me back.
The moment
passes.
He leans over to
kiss me goodnight. I am surprised by
the intensity of his kiss. Almost as if
he is trying to impart some long lost knowledge to me.
An intensity I
easily match.
“Goodnight, dear
heart.” He finishes securing the covers
around my body.
“Goodnight,
sweet prince.”
The light goes
off and he makes his way back down the stairs.
I hear the gentle sounds of weight being added to the couch. Blankets being adjusted and draped around
his body.
When he has settled
down for the evening. I too can rest
and sleep once again claims me.
“Jim?” My eyes open slightly at the sound of his
voice and the weight on my shoulder, and I try to figure out what he’s doing on
the floor next to the bed What’s going
on? What happened?
“Sweetheart.” His voice is soft, soothing,
non-threatening.
“What’s
wrong?” Even I can hear the heavy
traces of sleep still in my voice.
“You tell
me.” I feel the soothing motion of his
hand on my shoulder. Unconsciously I
lean into the touch, grateful for the touch, but still unsure the reason for my
return to wakefulness.
“You were having
a nightmare.” I can feel my eyes widen
at his words.
Damn.
When did the
nightmares start again?
“I didn’t know
how to wake you.” I can hear the lost
tone in his voice. I don’t even think
he realizes it’s there.
“What? Why?
Oh.” I turn my face into the
pillow. Once again he’s woken me from a
nightmare. What keeps him here? What keeps him doing this?
My eyes widen
further as the exact details of this particular nightmare return in a flood.
“Katy? What’s wrong?”
“David.” The single word slips out before I have a
chance to halt it.
I cover my
sudden confusion, with movement.
Shifting slightly I turn around to rearrange the pillows behind me so I
can lean against the rail. He takes my
motion as a signal and moves to sit next to me on the bed.
In reality I am
grateful for his presence.
Finally,
situated, and much more ready to deal with the final exoneration of my
nightmare, I turn back to face him.
“I was dreaming
about David again.” Somehow,
instinctively I realize that it is time to bring this particular nightmare into
the light of day. To bring it into the
light, so it no longer has the power to hurt me.
Or him.
He reaches a
hand towards my face, stopping in mid-air.
“This is my fault.” The look on
his face matches his tone of voice.
Bleak.
Now where did
that come from?
I grab his hand
and bring it the rest of the way to my face, placing his hand against my
cheekbone. Gently I turn and place a
small kiss on the palm of his hand.
“No. David did this. You had nothing to do with it.” I try to banish the pain I see in his eyes.
Blair was right,
this man does try to take the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“But what I
said, earlier.” He persists, not
realizing it is unnecessary.
“Made me feel
loved. Wanted.” My voice is soft, even as I make the
admission. I wish to call the words
back, still unsure of their reception.
“But this?” His free arm indicated the sleep tossed
bedding and sweat-soaked pillow.
“Was nothing
more than a nightmare.”
“That I caused.”
“Jim, you are
not responsible for everything that happens.
You can’t do everything. Be
everywhere. It is just not possible.” I place my own hand on his face; attempting
to sooth the worry lines that had suddenly appeared. Funny, I’m the one waking up from a nightmare, and he’s the one
that needs reassurance.
“But I should be
able to protect the people I love.”
Silently my
heart cheers at his admission, knowing it may be the closest thing to a
declaration I ever get from him.
“You have. And you will continue to do so.” I use my thumb to stroke his jaw-line –
trying to stop its furious clenching.
“You saved me.”
“But I can’t
seem to save you from the nightmares.”
His voice is anguished, broken.
“Don’t you
see?” He shakes his head slightly. “You have.”
“What do you
mean?” A slight note of hope reenters
his voice.
Maybe what I’m
saying is finally getting through to him.
“I wasn’t
dreaming about what he did to me. I was
dreaming he killed you.” I lower my
eyes to the bedcovers, and notice my hands worrying the comforter. And not
remembering how they got there, I find my hands far more disconcerting than
him. I raise my eye back up to meet
his. “That final meeting, when you came
to rescue me. He shot you. I couldn’t handle it if you died.” I hold my breath, waiting for his response.
This is the
first time I’ve admitted to my dreams.
First time I’ve been brave enough to admit my fear of losing him.
God. I love him so much.
He puts his
hands over hers, stopping their nervous motion.
“That’s not what
happened. It’s okay. I’m right here. He’s dead. I’m not.”
“Kathleen. I love you.”
“I love you too,
James Joseph Ellison.” I smile up at
him, attempting to project all the love in my heart, into my eyes.
“You do?”
“Yeah, I
do.” My smile grows as the final
vestiges of the nightmare leave. There
is no room left for the old fears.
His admission –
and mine – have driven them away.
He leans down
and pulls me into his arms. His lips
coming to rest against mine.
Several long
minutes later, we both have to come up for air. Somewhere along the way, we’ve shifted positions and he is now
lying full length next to me.
Raising himself
up on his elbows, he looks down into my eyes.
“You know I’ll do anything for you.”
“I know.” My breath catches in my chest. “And you know, I’ll be here for you. No matter what.”
“I know.” He kisses me gently. “So, how do you feel about children?”
“What did you
have in mind?” My tone becomes teasing.
The gentle sound
of laughter slowly turns into soft sighs.
Unnoticed, the
animals at the foot of the bed turn away, leaving their humans to their
privacy. Knowing, everything has
finally worked itself out.
Finis