by: Bluemoonalto
If Tucker hadn't been hanging from the ceiling in a net, he'd have smacked himself upside the head. Hoping for a fake-out make-out? he berated himself. Are you out of your mind? You'll be lucky if she'll ever speak to you again, after a dumb move like that. 'Fake-out make-out.' Aaarrrrgh!
But at that precise moment Valerie locked eyes with him and broke out in the sweetest smile. It only lasted a fraction of a second before fading into an expression of cautious concern, but not before leaving Tucker completely dazzled. So dazzled, in fact, that he didn't hear the heavy footsteps approaching him from behind, or notice the imposing figure looming over him, until a very deep voice cleared its throat. Startled, Tucker craned his head around (not so easy to do, while hanging in the net) and came nose-to-Adam's apple with a very large man brandishing a very large nightstick.
It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts and organize them well enough to put two semi-coherent sentences together. But when the words came out, he could manage no better than, "Uh. . . hi! You must be her dad—you're bigger than I thought you'd be!"
Tucker had a few more moments to calm down while the burly security guard tried placate his sour-faced employer, who apparently had no idea that his place of business had just been the scene of a battle between ghost and ghost hunter. He squirmed a bit in the net, trying to keep his thoughts focused with Valerie staring at him like he was some kind of insect caught in a jar. Apparently his impulsive, reckless act had succeeded beyond his wildest hopes: not only had Valerie managed to get all her ghost-hunting gear stashed away before her father could see her, but it looked like Mr. Gray and his boss were going to pin all the blame for the not-so-false alarm on him. No ghost, no ghost dog, no ghost hunter: just a clumsy adolescent boy suffering from an attack of excess hormones.
Valerie played her part perfectly. Breathless, perspiring and slightly disheveled, she kept her mouth shut and just let her father jump to the wrong conclusion. She even managed to grin sheepishly at being 'caught' with a boy. From his precarious position, dangling from the ceiling at the mercy of a very protective parent, Tucker had to admire Val's quick thinking as she adapted effortlessly to his ruse.
As for that very protective parent, he said good night to his employer, then grumbled a few not-so-nice comments under his breath as he released the net from the ceiling, letting Tucker tumble to the floor in a heap. "I'm okay!" Tucker asserted weakly, raising one hand in mock surrender. He gathered his feet under him and stood up, all the while brushing twigs and leaves out of his hair, but was brought up short when Mr. Gray grabbed him tightly by the elbow and steered him rapidly and forcefully out the door.
"Son, don't you think you've done enough damage for one night? Now you better find your way right out of here and head right on home." His voice was low and calm, but he punctuated his sentence with a gesture with the nightstick; the underlying threat was unmistakable. They proceeded along the hallway toward the exit in grim silence, but as soon as they were outside the building Mr. Gray stopped short. He spun Tucker around to face him, let go of his arm and prodded the business end of the nightstick into the boy's chest. "I don't know exactly what you think you were doing here tonight, but you should consider yourself extremely lucky that I'm not having you arrested for criminal trespass."
"Yes, sir," Tucker mumbled, trying to affect an expression of humility and shame even though he was actually feeling rather pleased with himself. He tried to keep his eyes focused on the ground at his feet, but glanced up just in time to see Danny—still in ghost form—touch down beside the fallen oak tree on the far side of the parking lot. "I'm very sorry, Mr. Gray. I promise it won't happen again."
"You're absolutely right, it won't. Because you're to stay away from my daughter. Understood?" He gave a gently push with the nightstick, forcing Tucker to take a step backwards. The teen nodded reluctantly. And with that, the man returned to work, muttering to himself under his breath.
Danny quickly changed back to his human form as Tucker ran across the parking lot to join him. "Where's Sam?" Tucker asked, puffing a little bit from exertion.
"She went home," Danny said with an air of preoccupation, as he was trying to untie what was left of the Fenton Fisher from the tree trunk. "I stuck around to make sure you were okay."
Tucker smiled, a secret smile. He took the other end of the line and tried to help. The two boys bent their heads over the work, but it quickly became obvious that Cujo had managed to pull the knot unbelievably tight before snapping his leash, and in the dim light the it was simply impossible to untie. Danny frowned for a moment, frustrated, then laid his hand on the tree trunk and made it intangible. The not-so-unbreakable line immediately went slack and he quickly retracted it, knot and all, into the Fisher's telescoping handle. He tossed the contraption to Tucker, who slipped it into his backpack. "So. . . ? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Tucker said absently. "But then, I wasn't the one getting shot at."
"Yeah." Danny ducked his head and grinned. "The weird thing is, I think I'm actually starting to get used to it."
Tucker laughed, a short, sarcastic snort, then playfully punched Danny's arm. Danny shoved back, and for a moment the two boys wrestled, a friendly tussle that meant nothing more than that they were both ready to take on all comers. Even well-armed girls with grudges. Of course, they quickly disengaged when a bevy of (totally unarmed) girls emerged from the Burger Wizard on the opposite side of the street, laughing and chatting noisily about hairstyles and fashions and boyfriends. Both boys watched intently as the girls piled into an expensive convertible and drove away.
Once the car was out of sight, the two headed off in the opposite direction, toward home. They walked along together, just enjoying the companionship, for a couple of blocks before Tucker broke the silence. "Hey—so what happened to the dog?"
"Believe it or not, he was just looking for his squeaky toy." Danny answered thoughtfully. "I found the old kennel where him and the other guard dogs must have lived, and the squeaky toy was in there, stuffed in between some old sacks of dog food. As soon as I gave it to Cujo, he just wagged his tail and faded away. It was almost. . . peaceful," he added, wistfully.
"No kidding?"
"Seriously! Well, it was peaceful except for the getting shot at part. I'm telling you, if I ever become a full ghost, I hope I get to go so gently. He just found what he was looking for, and dissolved into nothingness. And he was happy."
Stunned and just a little bit alarmed, Tucker stopped dead in his tracks. "Dude. You are seriously creeping me out."
"Sorry." Danny slowed his pace and walked backwards for a few steps, offering a casual grin to set his friend's frazzled nerves at ease. Tucker jogged a few steps to catch up. "I know I get morbid sometimes—it's an occupational hazard, I guess. Forget I said it. But what happened in there after I left?"
"Not much." The boys reached the corner of Russell and Spring and turned left toward Tucker's house. Tuck checked his watch: nine-twenty, well before his curfew. A perfect ending to a perfect evening. Well, a perfectly weird evening.
Danny nudged his elbow. "Sam told me you deliberately tripped the security system?"
"Yeah." The memory was still vivid, filling him with pride and a sense of mild euphoria. That smile! "I thought, well, maybe I could help her protect her secret. I mean, you heard how panicked she was when she was afraid her father would find her out."
Danny snorted. "I know what that's like."
Tucker shrugged. "Actually, I don't think her dad's all that scary. I mean, he's right up there with all the high-tech security stuff, but when it actually comes to bustin' chops. . . well, he just ain't bringing it. Guy's got this whole 'mild mannered' thing going."
"Looked to me like he frog-marched you right out of there."
"Well yeah, sure, but that was all part of my plan." Tucker thought he just might burst with pride. "Got him focused on me, not focused on Valerie; he's busy getting in my face, she's busy getting her act together and stashing all that ghost-hunting gear." His voice was rich with exuberance and bravado. "I catch a little heat, so later I can reap a little gra-ti-tude."
Danny seemed doubtful. "I don't know, Tuck. D'you think she really noticed? That she's really going to be all impressed just because you busted in there and got caught?"
"Danny, you did not see that smile. Girl could light up a room!"
Glumly, Danny replied, "I think I liked it better when she was still hanging with the popular crowd and didn't even know you existed."
Tucker stopped short. "What did you say?" he demanded, incredulous.
"It's. . . it's just. . . man, Tucker, you have to break it off with her!"
Tucker's mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, then closed again. Sure, Danny and Sam had been razzing him about Valerie for the last two days, but he didn't expect that his best friend would twist the knife this way. Danny just kept walking, and once again Tucker had to jog to catch up.
Finally, he found his tongue. "We've been over this already, Danny. What I have with Valerie has nothing to do with you. It's my life, my relationship, and the world doesn't always have to revolve around you!"
"Tucker, you're playing with fire." Danny pleaded. "How in the world can you keep this up, with her dedicating her whole life to destroying me? I mean, how is that supposed to make me feel, when you're getting all lovey-dovey with a girl who wants me dead?
"Well, maybe I just may be able to do something to change her mind, did you ever consider that? That maybe I just might be able to help? I'm not the problem here, Danny. I'm on your side."
"Yeah, well sometimes it's hard to tell. And you know something? You're not exactly famous for being able to keep a secret."
"That is so not fair!" Tucker grabbed Danny's arm, jerking him backwards and swinging him around so they were face to face. "You take that back!"
Danny opened his mouth, as though to snap back, but then closed it again. His expression softened as he avoided Tucker's gaze. "I know. You're right, I take it back. You would never betray me on purpose, I know that. But if Valerie's hanging around with you, then she's hanging around with us—and something's gonna slip. Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next week, but someday. She's going to see something, she's going to hear something, and then. . . what?" He phased his arm out from Tucker's grasp, then clapped him on the shoulder. "I want you to be happy, Tuck—really I do—but I can't take that kind of risk. It's my life at stake."
The gesture was meant to be friendly, but to Tucker it felt like a teacher patting a small child for giving a correct answer. He bristled at his friend's touch, pulling his arm away and stalking off toward home. "Yeah, I know. But it's not all about you, right? I have something invested in this too, do you get that? I mean, how many times do I get a beautiful girl to go out with me? Or look at me like Valerie looked at me tonight, like I was a hero?"
"Do you really think that's what this is about? That she's suddenly all into you, when a few days ago she didn't even want to eat lunch with you?"
"You want to go there? Do you really want to go there?" Tucker's voice grew louder and more strident with each passing moment. It hurt him deeply to have his affection for Valerie challenged this way, by somebody who was supposed to be his best friend, and retaliation was easy and satisfying. "How about you dropping your pants in front of Paulina, and then getting her to go with you to the dance? And speaking of which, do you honestly think an airhead like Paulina would be able to keep your secret for more than thirty seconds?"
"That's completely different! For one thing, Paulina doesn't have any weapons."
"She'd need to, if she was going to hang around with you!"
By this time they had stopped in the middle of the sidewalk in front of Tucker's house, but the argument was just coming to a head. Danny yelled, "That's completely beside the point! It's not her weapons, it's her attitude. Can't you see how much Valerie hates me?"
"Can't you see how much I don't care?" Tucker shouted back, arms spread wide in a gesture of frustration and barely contained aggression. For several long, tense seconds the two boys squared off in resentful silence, nose to nose, scowl to scowl.
The thing is, Danny is a whole lot better at the whole scowling thing. His eyes had turned green and he was clenching his fists as though he were perfectly willing to back up his argument with an ecto-blast or two. Tucker dropped his eyes and backed away, shaking his head. He'd pushed too far. He'd crossed a line, and he knew it.
But he was too far gone to apologize, or take back one word of what he had said. He did love Valerie, and she loved him, and Danny was being totally unreasonable and it wasn't fair! His mind wheeled in tight, angry circles but he couldn't for the life of him think of a single honest thing he could say that would defuse the situation or allow him to claim the smallest shred of dignity, much less victory. Instead, he let loose a wordless howl of frustration, then dashed up the stoop and into his house—slamming the door behind him.
ooo0ooo
Tucker slept fitfully that night, his sleep haunted by violent dreams that ended with him waking up in a cold sweat, dreams of which he could remember nothing but a sense of utter helplessness. During the long stretches of wakefulness his imagination conjured up an endless parade of vivid scenarios—some of rage, some of brutality, some of death—but all with one thing in common: Tucker himself was the catalyst, the traitor, the instrument of disaster.
At four o'clock he dragged himself over to the computer and typed out an e-mail for Danny to find in the morning: I'm sorry. You were right, and I was wrong. It doesn't matter how I feel about Valerie, we can't take the chance that she'll find out about you. I apologize for yelling at you, and I promise I'll break it off today. — Tuck
After he sent the message he crawled back into bed and brooded until morning.
ooo0ooo
Author's Note: I was writing a review of Shades of Gray recently, while at the same time getting involved in a character discussion about Tucker when I realized that Tucker's relationship with Valerie was never resolved after either that episode or Parental Bonding. There never seemed to be any hint of prior entanglements when Valerie set her sights on Danny in Reign Storm or Flirting With Disaster. So this little two-parter will try to bridge the gap between the last two scenes of Shades of Gray, and give Tucker and Valerie some closure.
This story has not been beta read. I am seeking beta advice on part two, which is very nearly complete but should be an even greater emotional roller coaster than part one. If you're interested in giving some detailed feedback and maybe engaging in a little back-and-forth, please let me know. Thanks!
