Caged: Reclamation

Chapter 1

Téa Delgado-Manning sat at her kitchen table looking at the urn in front of her. It was a simple metal box the color of slate. His name was inscribed on top in smallish block letters on a silver plaque.

T. Todd Manning

Etched below his name were the dates of his birth and death. The numbers made her mouth go dry and she glanced outside the grand French doors. The forest looked thick today, black even, beyond the late spring fog. She never thought much about those trees despite looking at them everyday. So many, about ten acres worth, a person could get lost.

The kids loved their private forest, bright shiny Rose included. They regularly took hikes through it, collected leaves and creatures, and entertained a vast array of imaginary friends there. Enemies too. Reese lately had been fighting a rather frightening pirate at whom he'd wag and jab a tiny sword.

You'll never beat me! I am king of the world!

Sounded like Todd. King. She knew he got the words "king of the world" from Starr who at a recent family dinner animatedly recited the details of her new-found infatuation with the movie, Titanic. Reese's eyes had been big and his lips parted in rapt attention because she was a force to watch. She'd laughed and then cuddled him but the words and the show had stuck with him. He asked about being king of the world, asked about the big ship, too, and the iceberg, but mostly about being the king and wasn't that an important thing?

Téa wasn't comfortable with Reese's battle in the trees. But her therapist said it was good for him to fight ghosts, to express his hidden upset at the loss of his father. He wanted to be king in an effort to control that which he could not control.

Reese was four, still too young to process the death, but he was aware of it. He asked about their Papi mostly because of Lucia. Lucia asked often about Todd's death. How did he die? When did he die? Where was he? Was it the war? His war? Where is he buried? The worst though was her worry for him. Did it hurt when he died? She cried sometimes but then would shut down. She would grow quiet in typical Manning style. The therapist said that was normal for a nine-year-old. In time, she'd be able to talk more about it. Téa had to be patient.

She cleared her throat and opened the box for the quickest of seconds, glancing at the plastic bag tied up inside, and then closed it. Plastic bag shipped from Cuba. She shuddered. Hard to fathom his body reduced to nothing but gray ashes. That beautiful body, that strong unkillable body with the scars and color. She shut her emotions down at that, as usual. Just like Lucia. In typical Manning fashion. Maybe Lucia was more like Téa. Maybe it's not Manning fashion but Delgado fashion.

Coldness washed over her and she breathed a moment or two before she got to her feet. She stood at the windows, her hands on her hips. She could easily see Todd chasing the kids at the edge of their forest, laughing as he did it or making pretend monster sounds. She could see Lucia running and laughing too and Reese running to keep up with Lucia before being grabbed up by Todd and swung in the air. Todd would then hold Reese tight and kiss his neck and cheeks and Reese would giggle like crazy. He was so small the last time he'd been held by Todd.

There was nobody now at the edge of the forest. Todd would never chase his children again, never kiss them again, never again walk through those doors, the children hanging all over him, grinning at her, and saying…

Can I chase you too, mami?

This was her routine. She would drag the box out of her closet and sit with it while she drank coffee and ate a little breakfast. She didn't know why she did it. It wasn't comforting. It wasn't a missing of him, a wishing he would be sitting across from her, doing the same thing. She sat with that box so she could brood. So she could KNOW. She wasn't much different from the children. She told her therapist this was her routine and Bianca said it was a way to process… blah, blah, blah.

I hate you, Todd Manning. For dying, for leaving me in that hospital. For blowing yourself up to kingdom come. You fucker. You fucking bastard. You chose death over everything.

She did it because it made her hate him. And hate was a whole lot easier than grieving a loved one. Back upstairs, she put the box into her walk-in closet. Shoved it away on a shelf behind a row of her coats and blazers. His clothes were gone. She'd put them in storage, not able to donate them or sell them or trash them. She couldn't decide actually and so packed them into a locked shed across town, one unmarked unit among hundreds of others just like it. All his clothes had been moved, his suits, his jeans, his shirts, his shoes and socks and underwear. She also stored every belonging that she identified as solely his.

She knew it was unfair to the kids but she simply couldn't bear being near anything that reminded her of him.

Are you sure, mí amor? Carlotta and Blair had tried to convince her to keep some things but she shut them down cold.

Get everything. That and that and especially THOSE.

Everything meant everything.

She had found a pair of swimming trunks in the back part of a drawer, something she never saw him wear since he hated swimming for some reason and they didn't have a pool anyway and they actually didn't travel to lakes or an ocean much. She wondered if he ever swam in Cuba, holding those shorts up, studying them. Red ones with a black stripe. She couldn't remember why he would have these. What he'd bought them for. She couldn't remember any trip they'd taken that even offered the possibility of a swim. They never even took trips. What pool would he swim in?

What the fuck were these for?!

Everyone around her had given her sympathetic looks as she ranted on and on about the damn shorts, Sam, Viki, Kevin... She knew she'd sounded crazy. She knew that when Carlotta hugged her and said, "It's okay, amorcita, it's okay." She shuddered at the recall of that day. The cleaning-out day. She pulled her hair back. Cursed him as she did a hundred times a day.

You fucker. You fucking bastard. King of Nothing. I'm glad you're dead, you asshole. If you weren't dead and you survived that bombing I'd have killed you myself with my bare fucking hands.

"Téa?"

She jumped, startled. Viki was at the door to her bedroom. The housekeeper must have let her in and directed her upstairs. She had a concerned expression on her face and Téa figured she must have looked like she indeed wanted to kill someone.

"I'm sorry, honey, I would have knocked. I heard you talking and-"

"No, no worries. Talking to myself. A little lost in it. Just another day." She closed the closet doors and turned. She couldn't get herself to smile in any way.

"I wanted to show you the proof… but maybe another time?"

"It's fine. Show me."

Viki was in the process of having Todd's name added to the Lord family mausoleum. He'd probably have hated that, given his choice. To be honest. She didn't argue the matter. Viki showed her a picture of what the bronze plaque would look like. Quickly, Téa noted his name, date of birth, date of death, a recognition of him as husband, father, brother, uncle. She distinctly noticed the absence of the word, friend, and she had to think about that one, wondering even whether that was a thing to say on such a nameplate, concluding it would be unusual and really he had no friends. Below was a quote about lifting himself up from ashes and living his life on his own merits… or something like that.

Téa hardly looked. She shrugged and said, yes, that's fine. "Very nice font," she snapped.

"His urn will be put into the crypt… is that okay?"

She instinctively glanced at the closet doors, knowing the box sat inside on that shelf. Todd's estate plan was silent on what to do with his cremains. He just wanted cremation. That was all the papers provided. Details on the rest was left to Viki who was the successor trustee of all his trusts. His lawyer was the initial trustee as long as Todd was alive but the plan specifically requested that Viki take over in the event of Todd's death. If Viki wasn't alive or refused or wasn't capable of it, then it would be Téa, and if she couldn't or wouldn't or wasn't alive, then it was to be any lawyer at Jedediah's choosing. If not Jedediah, then Starr.

"Whatever. I guess. I don't want them. His ashes, I mean."

Viki smiled sadly. "We can divide them up, you know. Maybe a little for each of the kids?"

Monstrous, Téa thought. What's wrong with these people? You can't divide a body. He needs all the ashes to be whole. She knew she made no sense. She said nothing, shrugging.

"And now… something else on his estate plan."

All his money went into a slew of trusts. Téa was a wealthy woman on her own and that was acknowledged. But he covered her anyway. Her legal share of their earned community property went to her, his share and all his separate property (earned before the marriage to Téa) went to the kids. There were special gifts, his prison charity for the younger inmates for one. He left Blair a sizeable amount.

Nothing had been transferred yet, however. Viki and Téa both admittedly dragged heels. Mainly it was because of the littlest Manning on earth… Esperanza. She only just got out of NICU after two months - the neonatal intensive care unit - and they'd been completely absorbed in her growth and survival of being prematurely born. She was now a regular cooing baby, having caught up miraculously well to her earthly age of two months rather than her minus two months. She was napping, Alison their au pair, buzzing nearby down the hall, near a monitor, ready to run when Esperanza woke up. Lucia and Reese were in their respective schools and it felt a little like respite. Téa had balked on work today, skipping the office.

Viki pulled a large manila envelope out of her bag. Holding it, she smiled that sad smile and said, "You want to go downstairs?"

"No, sit. Here is fine."

They moved to the small den in the bedroom. Viki sat in a fine flowery wingback chair while Téa sat in Todd's overstuffed sofa-chair where he often read or lectured Téa or groaned about whatever was irritating him or... urged her over to him to fuck him…

No, no, no. Don't. God, don't go there.

Too late. A flash of climbing onto his lap and sinking onto his ready self felt like yet another knife in her gut. She put it out of her head. Reminded herself of her preferred memory of this chair. This was where he had been sleeping, stoned on heroin, that one day when Rolon purposefully injected him with even more dope which sent Todd into an overdose. If it hadn't been for Dr. Timothy Graham coming over with Jedediah, Todd would have died.

Good times.

You fucker. You fucking bastard. Leaving me there in Havana, leaving your children. I will never fucking forgive you. You should have died from that overdose.

Téa breathed deeply to quell her hundred-times-a-day curse that threatened to gain a voice and watched as Viki pulled out a small stack of papers from the envelope. The manilla envelope fell to the floor and Téa had a hard time tearing away from it.

"He amended his trust," Viki said. "Did you know?"

"No. Recently?"

"Yes… while in Havana."

"What's it about?"

She didn't really care. Money had lost all its importance to her these days. She supposed it would matter if she was penniless but that wasn't possible so she was back to not caring about HIS money. She eyed Viki, knowing her lack of caring was overly obvious. But then she realized Viki was slightly… uncomfortable? Hesitant?

"What is it? What?" Téa repeated in a more engaged way, false as it was.

"Who is Rico Macias?"

Oh god… that name.

She hadn't heard it, hadn't thought it, in weeks and weeks and weeks. Her heart cracked right open at the sound of it, at the immediate picture of him, at seeing beautiful strong haunted oh-so-deadly Rico who held Todd's heart for all those months in Cuba because of course she couldn't think about him. Rico was Todd's truth… Rico was an expression of the vast breadth of love Todd was capable of, Rico proved Todd's deep-down openness to people after all, showed the great depth of passion inside of him that he so desperately tried to deny…

You are not dead. I see it in your kisses, how you hold him beneath you, how you move so hard against him… my god…you are so very much alive.

He proclaimed himself dead, murdered by Téa's bullets, and yet there there he was in Havana, Cuba, a place so very far away, loving a man who showed him love in the darkest of places, despite everything, even though Todd never wanted to admit that truth, that he was in fact human, that he could in fact love and feel love in so many ways…

Oh god, mí amor, mí amor… goddamnit… oh fucking damn it...

"Téa," Viki said softly, putting a hand on hers. "I'm sorry."

I could love you, Rico Macias, I could do this, the three of us, we can be something… fuck me, make it real, let's not pretend… he will be happy, he will be full… he will know love like he's never known in his whole life...

Téa wiped the spontaneous tears on her face, tried to. "Oh Jesus…," she choked, a hysterical mad sob right at her throat, in her chest, rising up up up, threatening to pull her down down down into a heap where she would scream an endless scream. The tears kept coming despite her willing them to stop, demanding that they stop.

I love you, Todd Manning, I love you with all I am, with my whole soul, with every inch of me, and I hate you just as much for dying. I hate you for leaving us, all of us. We were your family. You had no right to choose death over us. I love you I love you I love you oh my god I am going to die today tomorrow please please let this not be real please God please let this—

Viki didn't press. She sat patiently, reading the documents, letting Téa get back to herself. Soon Téa breathed in deeply and noisily, and said, "Okay, sorry, okay. I didn't expect to hear his name." She breathed and breathed and soon the terror faded, the massive black grief forced back into its box on the hidden shelf inside of her.

"It happens," Viki said quietly. "Things will just hit you and there you'll be in the middle of a supermarket or in the hallway or in the car…crying." Viki squeezed Téa's hand. "Grieving is very difficult."

Téa nodded, using her sleeve to wipe her nose, no tissues anywhere near her. She didn't ever cry, she made sure of it, so no need for tissue boxes around the house. She swallowed and sniffed hard. I fucking hate you. She studied Viki, focusing on her eyes that were the very same color as Todd's. Blinked away the last of the determined tears.

The two women held each other's gaze, holding hands, and soon Téa said more plainly than she intended, "Rico was Todd's lover in Havana."

Touch me… tell me not to be afraid.

Viki nodded, her mouth in an ahhh shape. Smiled a little, then didn't. "He must have… really, actually, cared for him then." She looked at Téa then back at the papers, flipping the pages. "He left him a good sum of money in this amendment," she said. "Left him more than he left Blair."

"He loved him, Viki. I shot Todd… and he found love in Havana."

"Love." Viki closed her eyes and caressed the paper in her hand, an unconscious act. Her thumb tenderly running over Todd's signature.

Téa was quiet then sputtered, "You're not shocked."

"No, should I be?"

"Viki, I just told you he had a lover, a man, and Todd loved him the way he'd love a woman. Real love. Yes, I'd think you'd be surprised at least."

"Are you?"

"No, but…maybe... ? I was?"

Viki grew serious and did not mince words. "Téa, things happened when he was on the streets, using, back when Brandy was in his life. I learned, suspected, that his sexuality was… uncertain. Things he said. Doesn't matter anyway… does it? What's the point? Even if I was shocked… what good would it do? He's done a hell of a lot more shock-worthy things… than love someone. Don't you think?"

Téa smiled a little, a pained laugh sitting in her chest, staying put. She nodded, fingertips at her lips.

Viki then asked, "You knew Rico, then? Personally?"

"Yes," Téa said softly, over Viki's taking it all in stride. "It's hard to hear his name, makes Havana recent, makes Todd's death… recent. I'm glad Todd took care of him."

"You're glad. You don't hate Rico then."

"No."

"THAT shocks me. On a pure…wifely level."

"I lost all claims to my husband the day I shot him. I was never angry at Rico. I could never hate him. Ever. I loved him actually for loving Todd when I couldn't." She whispered the last words.

Téa smoothed her jeans, running her hands down her thighs. She felt cold despite her heavy sweater. As such, she had a hard time recreating in her head Havana's humidity that hung in that room in that house. But she had no trouble seeing, feeling, their nights together, the couple of times they three lay naked and intertwined on that bed in that Havana bedroom. Rico and Téa were trying to keep Todd alive that last night. They thought it worked. She remembered her last hour with Rico alone. He was beautiful, so incredibly beautiful.

Too beautiful to kill.

It was funny though how his beauty was not what Todd loved about him. She doubted he even noticed just how magnificent Rico was. From what she knew of them, of Todd, it was Rico's brokenness, his loyalty, his kindness, it was how he loved Todd… those things made Todd fall in love with him. And Téa only knew a little. There was so much she didn't know, and now, perhaps would never know. But… she could say absolutely, Rico's beauty was the least of things that drew Todd because beauty was never Todd's weakness.

Brandy, for instance, had not been beautiful at all - could have been if not for how she lived. Similarly, Smithy Jackson could have been beautiful if not for the terrible burn on his face. Kenneth… he was handsome in a quirky way, in a blond-Harry-Potter-nerd way, but nothing like Rico. And Todd loved all those people in some way. But, she supposed, he did not love any of them the way he loved Rico. Maybe his beauty cinched the whole thing. She didn't know.

Téa closed her eyes while Viki read the important parts of the trust amendment to her. Rico's name drifted in the air over and over.

Rico Macias.

She could hear Todd's voice behind those changes to his estate plan, saying words she could not make out. Or rather words she did not want to make clear. The voice in her head, his voice, was losing depth, wholeness, specificity. She was quickly forgetting the sound of him. He was so close though, still, that she could smell him. She glanced around. It was probably the sofa. She leaned over and sniffed the fabric.

Cigarettes.

Téa shook her head. Rico's name brought Todd back to life in a way. She glanced at the windows, at hazy bright light. She could see him there, ass on the window sill, tightly muscled arms crossed, bare chest, faded jeans hanging indecently low on his hips, that light spray of hair on his chest that reduced to a line that went down to his pubis... terrible scarring marked him all over as did that ink. Bullet wounds on his chest. Healed… though still blazing. Piercing hazel eyes held hers fast, a gaze she could touch, a demanding expression on his bearded face framed by long graying brown hair.

Remember me. Think of me. See ME.

Her eyes dropped to his bare feet. Toes curled on the chilled wooden planks. Tears came to her… hot and angry and then evaporated. Go away. Memories washed out with the tide of reality.

You fucker. You fucking bastard. I fucking hate you. And I fucking hate your cigarettes. Too bad they didn't kill you ages ago.

"Have you… um… contacted Rico?" Téa asked when Viki finished the reading.

"Not yet. Todd's lawyer is on it. We only just got the signed amendment. It was held up with the FBI. A young man named Kenneth McNair contacted George, you know, Todd's lawyer, and said he had paperwork from the day Todd was killed but that his boss Benicio Juarez demanded it once they were back on American soil so red tape held it up."

Téa said, "He signed it."

"Yes," Viki said, the signed page the one she was touching.

Téa reached for the papers and eyed the page. A scribble met her eyes, unquestionably Todd's. It was messier than usual. It was hurried. He signed it… knowing maybe… figuring maybe… he was going to die. George must have prepared these but then called for a quick signature. Téa ran fingertips over the black curves. She looked at the date. He'd signed it two days before he died.

"You bastard…," she sighed.

"Can you tell me about Rico? Is he someone I should be generous with or… restrictive?"

Téa said nothing for a while, her fingers staying on the signature. Over and over, she caressed his name until she was scratching at it. She handed it back to Viki to protect the page from her nails, from her desire to tear that signature away from the page and eat it.

"Rico is deeply loyal," she finally said. "He is breathtakingly beautiful, a face, a body, that you'd see in a magazine. He's young, just a little older than Jedediah. He's smart, street-smart, street-brilliant. He's an artist. A damn good one. He paints, draws. He is a survivor."

"What do you mean a survivor?"

"Rico was a child sex slave. As an adult, he was a prostitute. And in that, he… uh… sometimes put up with Todd's abuse a little too easily."

"My god."

"Yeah, his story is… shocking… brutal, far worse than anything I've ever heard."

Too beautiful to kill.

"Is he like Brandy?"

"NO, god no. Nothing like her. At first I thought he was but then… I got to know him and realized how much stronger he was than Brandy, how much… better he was for Todd. I saw pretty quickly too that Todd… um… that he loved Rico in a fairly conventional way." Téa rested her head on her hand, an elbow on the sofa-chair's arm. Eyes looked into the distance but then she glanced at her sister-in-law, finding a doubtful expression on her face.

Viki smiled just a little, "Todd wasn't very conventional."

"But it was. I saw with my own eyes that they… uh… didn't just have sex, they made love. Todd was kind to him, truly cared for him. He'd look for him when Rico disappeared sometimes, he would make sure Abram was with Rico… to help him. Todd tried to downplay it… but I saw it. I saw it."

"You cannot tell me that did not hurt you. You say no..."

"Of course it did. It positively killed me. But who was I to object? I shot him, Viki. Like Tim once said, I betrayed him in the worst way possible. He trusted me with his life and I took that trust away. Tim said… no surprise that the next person he loved would not be a woman. What he really meant was that it wouldn't necessarily be me."

Viki was quiet, contemplating what Téa was saying. Téa knew Viki had her opinions on the shooting and that they were probably similar to what Tim said but she kept them to herself. Always.

"He loved Todd, too, then," Viki said softly.

"Yes, he did." She laughed a little. "He tried to deny it too. Never have I seen two people fighting so much what they felt inside of themselves. In the end, I accepted them because- well, anyways."

"You haven't spoke to him since..."

"He left Havana quickly… I don't know why. I was surprised - thought he would have wanted to see me. I worried for weeks and then… I just stopped thinking of him altogether. It's too hard, too complicated."

"Given the option… do you want to see him, see Rico?"

Tears wetted her eyes once more and she didn't really know why. Maybe because talking about Rico brought her close again to loving Todd. It was so much easier to hate him. She shrugged. "I'm not sure."

She didn't have to explain. She knew Viki probably went with the wifely jealousy. Téa didn't have it in her to counter any of Viki's presumptions. Thinking about Rico brought the love out. It brought the grieving out. And right now, she needed to hate. And hate BIG. So no… she didn't want to see Rico, or talk to him, or even think about him.

Viki soon left her, both saying their goodbyes and promising a Sunday dinner with all the kids. Esperanza was crying and her voice carried down the hall. She was strong in her cries, full throaty demanding cries. Allison would pick her up. Funny, how babies cry with so much hate.

No, she corrected herself, Esperanza cries with hate.

She turned to the windows and the ghost of Todd still stood there. He grinned darkly, a hand giving his crotch a squeeze like a gangster, knocking his head back, the snake on his neck seeming to glare at her. Then he laughed. He lit up a cigarette that came out of nowhere, head bent, hand protecting the light as if a breeze could kill it. He shook with laughter. Smiled at her with that cigarette hanging out of his mouth, smoke enveloping his face. He shoved the lighter back in his jeans pocket then leaned back, hands on the sill behind him.

Spoke to her with no voice.

Now you get it, doncha. Hating is better than crying. 'Cause if you cry for the shit you lost, you'll never fuckin' stop. And then what? You'll die of the goddamn grief, Delgado. It'll eat you alive. So you gotta hate. And hate with everything you are, with your entire body and soul, so you can survive another day. So you can live to see the fuckers get blown to Kingdom COME. Is that rain I feel or is that their blood?

He put his hand out as if he was feeling the drops.

God might be crying but I sure as hell ain't.

She could see him, his face changing, his face showing all that hate. The fourth year convict in Statesville stood at her window now. He flicked his cigarette away. He left the window sill. Took steps towards her. Eyes hard on hers. He pounded his chest with a closed hand, a fist. He screamed silently, teeth bared like an animal, veins in his neck popping, hair trembling that half covered his face, ropy muscles in his shoulders and arms and chest and stomach. Jesus. His fists were up now and you knew they were going to come at you, floor you, like he had weights in those knuckles. Then he'd straddle you and make you wish you were dead. He'd end you. He was going to send you straight to hell.

She shut him off.

THAT was the bastard who blew up her life. His children's lives. His own. So full of hate he'd killed off everything good in himself, everything good that the world had to offer. He killed off the real Todd Manning.

Blanco Moreno, the Mad King of the Mambo Kings, the survivor of Téa's bullets, got his way.

She needed to remind herself of that. Todd had wrecked everything with that hate. Killed all hope any of them had for peacefulness, for a loving life, for something real and lasting and good.

She needed to not repeat that, right?

Téa did not tell Viki everything about Rico. That he had been full of hate, too… that he easily murdered Manuel Caro, cutting him to pieces, and then delicately ate the man's heart as Téa began to bleed out, as she began to die.

No, no, she had to remember that hate was a terrible thing.

Except…ghostly Todd was right. She had hate inside of her now. Understood it now. And she was having a hell of a time trying to be better than that. Trying not to wreck things with her bottomless hate.

Her question was… since Todd was dead, who was she screaming at? Who was she aiming her weighted fists at? Who'd she straddle and make wish they were dead with her endless punches?

Cool brown eyes looked at the cell phone on the bed as it buzzed. She sniffed. Got up off the chair with a grunt, the one thing of Todd's she kept, this goddamn chair, and picked up the phone. Rolled her eyes. A daily check-in call.

"What?"

"Ouch, mamita. Who pinched you?"

"Fuck you, Rolon."

He chuckled and then didn't. "Are you okay, mí reina?"

She smiled and sighed. "I'm fine. Just dealing with the world."

"I have a case for you."

"What…"

"You said you were ready for work. Can you meet with him?"

"A criminal case."

He was quiet a moment. "A new recruit. Got caught with heroin, enough to sell. I bailed him out myself."

"Recruit? He's MK?"

"Yeah."

"We talked about this. I thought Pedro let you go."

"I am out. Nothing has changed. I just… know this kid. Saw the color."

"Send him my way then."

"Your old office? It's up and running then."

"Yes. I'm back, Rolon."

She hung up and looked at the ghost at the window. He clicked a lighter on and off, on and off. Kept it on and lit up a cigarette. Stared hard at her. Growled silently when she scowled at him.

Fuck you, Todd Manning. May you be burning in hell for all goddamn eternity.

He laughed at that, cigarette in his fingers, orange tip. He laughed and laughed. Pointed the cigarette at her. Then he brought the thing to his mouth and puffed and turned his head, letting out the smoke, watching the fog outside.

To be continued….