Haunted by doc
Summary: Be sure your sins will find you out.
Description: This story explores Briggs' reaction to Charlie finding out about his involvement in Juan Badillo's murder. The original premise was to be a one-shot reaction piece, which takes place immediately after the camera breaks to credits in the episode "The Head of the Pig." After the amazing shower and kitchen scenes, where Briggs & Charlie discuss the pregnancy, I was disheartened to have that damn tape pop back up! I started this story at that time, but was unable to finish due to my hectic schedule. The following episode, "Home," was like a sucker punch to my gut. I literally felt sick by the end and trashed my partially written story. A few days passed and I began to contrive endings for the storyline that "I could live with." I was also concerned that viewer numbers might not allow for renewal of the show, so I decided to retrieve my "one-shot" and develop it into a longer story utilizing one of my potential three endings. I don't know if I'll have the time or inclination to write the other two, but so far this ending is my favorite.
Rating: Teen. I debated about this rating, as the story at times has a more mature theme. That said, the words are more poetic than graphic, so I decided to post it here.
'***'
PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTES!
AN 1: Hello everyone, this is my first GRACELAND story, but I have written extensively for other fandoms. I LOVE GRACELAND and adore the couple of Charlie and Briggs! That being said, I can't imagine a more tricky relationship, based on Briggs' behaviors and falsehoods in the first season. I say this both as explanation and warning! My previous readers knew to "trust me" in the care of a favorite couple, so I will plead with you to do the same-TRUST ME and let the story develop. I promise not to disappoint those of you who adore this complex couple. I do, however, guarantee an emotional rollercoaster ride! As a "token of goodwill," I'm including a prologue, which will hopefully quell any misgivings about my eventual intent for this story.
AN 2: I'm a physician who practices neonatology (newborn intensive care). If I should happen to use a medical term or diagnosis you don't understand, please don't hesitate to send me a note requesting further explanation.
Disclaimer: I don't own Graceland or any of the characters from my favorite shows. I don't profit from them for sure, I wish! I just take them out and play with them on occasion before replacing them safe and sound back on the shelf. The "fade song" ending this chapter is "Pieces" from the album End of Silence by Red.
Special thanks to my terrific beta, philliesfan1000, the finder and keeper of all things related to spelling and grammar.
'**********'
Haunted
"You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily or have sharp edges or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." - The Velveteen Rabbit
"My biggest fear is that eventually you will see me the way I see myself." – Unknown
'***'
Prologue
Sometime far in the future…
She feels his tremors first, as his movements jar her from sleep. His breathing is rapid, his gasps desperately searching for the air essential to life. His throaty moans break the overwhelming silence of the dark room, "NO, nooo…please…don't go…"
Lifting her head from his chest, she can barely make out his features in these early moments before dawn. She raises a hand to his face, cupping his brow, drawing a soothing path across his forehead with the tips of her fingers. Her lips trace the scar on his left cheek with the gossamer touch of a butterfly's wing. She's been through these same events hundreds of times over the years. In the beginning, his nightmares were nearly continuous, happening several times each night. He'd contritely offered to sleep alone, but she'd had none of it. Her presence seemed to soothe and lessen the duration and intensity of his terrors, so she had dutifully remained by his side, forsaking slumber and peace for the sinewy strength and enigma that was uniquely him.
His arms clutch her tightly to his side, refusing to release his ever-present bedrock of asylum; that, too, had changed over the years. In the beginning, he'd pushed her away, as he fought off his demons. He often left bruises and marks in his wake, as he wrestled for his very soul. In the morning, his sorrowful eyes begged forgiveness, as he caressed the pain of his inflictions from her skin. It was a small price for her to pay for the treasure of holding his heart.
His cries break her from her musings, as she shushes away the growing noise, afraid he'll rouse the rest of the house. His breaths come in fits and starts, as he gasps under his weighty burden.
"Sweetheart," she whispers gently into his ear, her warm breath causing eruptions of shudders to quake through his body. When he fails to stir from the dream, she tries again, "Paul, baby, you're having a nightmare."
He startles awake with a grunt, then rubs away the sleep from his eyes. She is well acquainted with this behavior too, watching as he shields his eyes from her unwavering and intuitive stare, in an attempt to hide the embarrassment of being caught in such a fragile state. After all these years, he still fears the possibility of seeing disgust, or worse yet, pity, in her gaze. She stills his hand, gently turning his face toward her, nothing but love and tenderness shining through her eyes.
"I woke you up," he mumbles with a slur, his voice still thick with slumber.
"It's okay," her voice is soft as silk, and smooth as honey, caressing away his protective walls of unease.
He nods an acknowledgment, but remains tense under her weight. She shifts slightly, settling the crown of her head under his chin, giving him a moment to compose himself. Her fingers meander a lazy path down his side, until she reaches the edge of his t-shirt. Deftly tunneling underneath to find the warmth of his skin, she begins the well-traveled journey of unwinding his nightmares. She had mastered her tried and true technique in the dark hours, as his apparitions danced on the walls of their bedroom.
He bristles at first, aware of her intentions, but then relaxes under the familiar comfort of her ministrations. She waits until his breathing evens out and his own hands begin to wander.
"You want to tell me what's turning around in that head of yours?" She smiles at the familiar turn of phrase.
"I never remember my dreams, baby," clearly he recalls that conversation too. His hands become more demanding and insistent in their search of his target, as he attempts to derail her probing questions.
She pushes up on one knee and languidly stretches atop his body, slowly melting her skin to his, inch by inch. Her chin comes to rest on her crossed forearms atop his chest, an indulgent smile playing on her lips. She will grant him his reprieve this once, not wanting to sour his mood so early in their vacation holiday.
"That's a good thing. It didn't seem like you were in a happpppy plaaaace," she shivers as his roughened fingertips brush up the delicate skin of her back, taking her short nightgown along for the ride.
He watches her eyelids drift shut under the wave of pleasure pulsing through her body. When she glances his way again, her eyes are glazed and fluid with emotion. He holds her gaze intently, allowing the truth of his words to envelop her, "THIS…is my happy place."
The corner of her mouth turns up at the memory of his first verbal attempt to express his love. He learned to say the words over the years, but those first spoken sentiments are still among her favorites. She arches over him, lips a hair's breadth from his, so he feels her every word, "I love you, too, baby."
He melds his lips to hers, and flips them in a single smooth motion. As his weight presses her into the bed, he removes her silken garment with a single practiced stroke. The softness of the gown evokes a memory of a time now past. She had worn it on their tenth anniversary, as a special gift to him. To this day, no one would dare call his wife girlie. She still preferred t-shirts and jeans to ruffles and lace, but on occasion, she could surprise him. For their tenth anniversary, she had emerged from their bathroom in a short silken nightgown the color and richness of heavy cream….
"Paul?" She tilts her face to the side trying to gain his attention.
…The gown was simple enough, with just a touch of lace, but against the backdrop of her beautifully tanned skin and dark hair, it had proven pure magic for him. The lingerie had been quickly banished that night, in favor of other joys. It was nowhere to be found the following morning and hadn't been seen since. There was not a single stitch of evidence the gown even existed that night, because he had looked. He had finally decided it was a fleeting dream or aberration born of his love-addled mind….
"Hey Paulieee," she tries a singsong voice to no avail.
…yet, here it was, soft and cool to his touch. Lifting it to his face, its perfumed fragrance takes him back to that special night. She smelled of flowers and sunshine, and something else, sweet and reminiscent of love.
"PAUL!" Her voice now more insistent, finally gains his attention. His eyes dart to hers, then dance away, embarrassed to be caught reveling in his daydream.
"Ya still wit me here? I can't exactly do this by myself!" Her normally absent Brooklyn accent easily slips back into place, as she chuckles at the coyness of his boyish alarm.
He shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, before presenting the evidence of his dreams. "I ah…I was just thinking about the, ah…the…the last time you wore…wore this," he flashes her an impish grin to mask the fluster of his stuttering speech, "…I ah…I was beginning to think it, ah…didn't actually…exist."
"Well, are ya content to survive on those memories alone, or do ya wanna make some new ones?!" Her attitude is definitely all Brooklyn this time, along with her condescending New York smirk.
He pegs her with a lecherous glare, throwing in a confident wink for good measure, as he tosses the fantasy garment over his right shoulder. "What do you think, sweet thing?!" He smugly asserts, tossing her cocky attitude right back.
Diving in he catches her lips, kissing her until she begs for air. Settling his weight a little more firmly atop her, he softly whispers in her ear, "Forever isn't long enough to make all our memories, baby…but I'm more than willing to try with you by my side." His lips quiver a bit under the deeply felt emotion of his words. He then searches out his favorite place on the side of her neck, the one that tastes like honey.
She comes undone, as always, and shatters in his arms, Brooklyn attitude now gone, replaced by her deep abiding adoration and love….
'*'
I'm here again
A thousand miles away from you
A broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am
I tried so hard
Thought I could do this on my own
I've lost so much along the way
Then I see your face
I know I'm finally yours
I find everything I thought I lost before
You call my name
I come to you in pieces
So you can make me whole
I've come undone
But you make sense of who I am
Like puzzle pieces in your hand,
Then I see your face
I know I'm finally yours
I find everything I thought I lost before
You call my name
I come to you in pieces
So you can make me whole!
I tried so hard! So hard!
I tried so hard!
Then I see your face
I know I'm finally yours
I find everything I thought I lost before
You call my name
I come to you in pieces
So you can make me whole
So you can make me whole
'***'
To be continued…
'**********'
AN: I plan to update this story weekly on Wednesdays, think of it as a GRACELAND episode replacement, while the actual show is on hiatus! There may be occasions where I miss a week, if my schedule gets too crazy. I hope you'll forgive me, but my "little charges" in the NICU must come first! Thank you for taking the time to read the start of my tale; I hope you'll come back for more!
