Zapharina: Thanks! Yeah, I agree, it does seem strange to have them all be humans – but the idea popped into my head and just wouldn't go away! I hope you enjoy the rest of it.
BuckyBucky Black 13: Thank you!!!
williammainnolden: …I hope that's a good thing? Lol! Thanks for reading.
cc: I hope it wasn't too confusing…or at least that it becomes clearer! Thanks for reading!
lko: I'm glad you like it!!
health-critic: Hey – I got your PM! Thanks so much – it's so nice to get an in-depth, longer-than-three-word review. You're right, the beginning did cause me some grief, but I tried a couple ways of starting it and decided straight-out exposition was safest. I hope the rest of the story is up to par!
balamba: Thank you so much!! Yeah, it's good to have canon (or at least as close as you can get to 'canon' with CATS) once in a while, isn't it? I hope you keep reading!
irishdancerfromroi: Wow, I am SO flattered!! Thank you!! Yeah, I am sort of afraid of him turning into a Gary-Stu – I'll have to watch out for that! searches through the collection of tragic flaws XD I hope I can measure up to your expectations from now on!
MissQuaxoMistoffelees: Thank you! Yes, Misto will be showing up sooner or later – probably not as you would imagine him, but he will be showing up.
Krissy4: Thank you! Here's the next bit. XD
DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Rawr.
The Junkyard
Chapter 2: The Matron and the Flirt
I'm not really sure how long I knelt there, listening to Bruce's gasps and Michael's quiet murmurs of comfort. I only felt the cold water of the cloth I held seeping onto my skin, leaving my hands clammy – after a while my knees started to hurt from their forced contact with the hard wooden floor, but still I didn't stand. Michael looked at me from time to time, as if to see how I was holding up. I guess he had no complaint with what he saw, because he just got on with his work. I didn't know how he could stand it as Bruce jerked and shook, at times flinging himself about in the bed so violently Michael or I was nearly sent flying.
Finally, though, I heard two sets of footsteps hurrying towards us. I looked up to see Rina coming back, her pretty face filled with concern. She was followed closely by another woman, an older one, with a sharp, pointed face and pale yellow hair.
Michael looked up as they came closer, and as soon as the new woman saw what was in the bed she swooped down upon our patient, examining him with a critically professional eye. "How long has he been like this?" she asked, to no one in particular, as she firmly lifted one of Bruce's eyelids to look underneath it.
Across from me, Michael sighed and sat up straight, pulling himself gently out of Bruce's grip. "I don't know, Jerri. Jemima came and found me, but I didn't see him come in." He stood slowly, rolling his shoulders, and I followed suit, feeling the sharp pain of a crick developing in my neck.
Rina was hovering uncertainly at the foot of the bed, eyeing Bruce with a detached but wary gaze, as the new woman – had Michael called her Jerri? – took my place at Bruce's side and continued the care we had been giving him.
Michael gestured to her back, looking suddenly exhausted. "Rina, Demeter – this is Jerri Lars, our live-in nurse and general medical advisor. If you ever find any problems with any of the people who come in here or with the children, she's the one to call."
Jerri looked behind her quickly at the two of us, giving Rina and I a thin-lipped smile, before she turned back to Bruce. Michael watched her for a moment, then turned and touched my elbow. I almost jumped at his touch.
"Come on," he said quietly, "he's in good hands. Will you be all right, Jerri?" he called.
"Fine, dear," Jerri's clipped voice answered immediately. "I'll give a shout if I need anyone."
"Good," Michael replied, seemingly satisfied, as he drew me towards the door. I followed numbly, still not quite able to get my impressions of Bruce's suffering out of my head. He was just a boy…
Rina touched my other arm – the one Michael wasn't holding – and I jumped again. "Hey," she said quietly, her red hair falling over her face. "You okay?"
"Y-yes…"
"I'm sorry to drag the two of you into that," Michael's voice broke in. I turned to look at him, and saw that he was staring at me, his gaze intense. "I suppose that might have been a bit overwhelming for your first day."
I steeled myself, forcing my mind to focus on the matter at hand. As cruel as it sounded, I was hardly going to be a good worker for the homeless if I nearly broke down over every drug addict I met! "I'm fine," I said firmly, willing myself to believe it. To my surprise, I almost did.
I must have convinced Michael, at least – he just nodded and finally took his hand off of my arm, leaving a void where his touch had been. My skin felt suddenly cold. "All right," he said. He sighed and ran a hand through his wild black hair. "Well, after that, I think I owe you something a bit more cheerful," he continued, sounding a bit happier himself. "What if I introduce you to the kids and Jennifer? The little ones will be sure to be all over you while you're working here, so you might as well get to know them."
"Sure!" Rina took over for me, calm as ever – or at least, if she wasn't calm, she was doing a great job of hiding it (also as always).
Together the two of us followed Michael back to the stairs, and this time went downwards – I remembered that he had said the orphanage was on the fourth floor, and we were coming down from the fifth. In the relative silence of the stairwell – the only sound was that of our feet echoing on the metal steps – I was pulling myself together, mentally and physically. Bruce had really shaken me, but I shook my head a little, (letting my golden-brown hair fall into my eyes), straightening my shirt, blinking and making sure I at least looked normal. I didn't want to appear disturbed before the children.
Michael stopped before the door which opened onto the fourth floor, his hand on the doorknob as he looked back at us. He grinned suddenly as a whoop of happiness burst from the other side of the door. "I ought to warn you," he said mischievously, "they can be quite hard to handle."
"Bring it on," Rina said, as if daring him. He glanced at her and quirked an eyebrow, accepting her challenge.
"Okay," he said, turning the knob. "Here we – "
"Miiiiiikeeeeeyyyy!"
"Augh!"
We had taken barely two steps into the large, sunlit room before Michael disappeared in a tangled pig-pile of tiny arms and legs, perhaps six or seven children shrieking with happiness as he flipped them over his shoulders, tickled them, or ruffled their hair. Behind the flailing group stood the tiny little girl Jemima, who watched awkwardly, gazing at the pile with shining, curious eyes. She was held in the comforting arms of a woman about the same age as Jerri Lars, but this woman was a bit pudgier and had a shock of red hair creeping out from underneath her quaint straw boater hat. Her face was broad, open and friendly, and I felt completely at ease just from looking at her.
"All right! All right!" Michael gasped, finally surfacing from the melee of wriggling youngsters. "That's enough! I need to breathe!"
"Breathing is overrated!" a little boy's voice called. Michael's hand dived into the group, and the same boy – whoever he was – giggled fiercely as he was tickled.
"Off! That's it, off!" Michael said again, emerging with his hair a complete mess and his collar askew. "Come on, guys. I have two knew people I want you to meet."
Almost instantly, the children scrambled off of him, and Rina and I found ourselves confronted and surrounded by several pairs of bright, shining eyes.
"They're both girls, Mikey."
"Ooh! She has such pretty hair!"
"Look! She has pointy shoes!"
"Mikey, do they talk?"
"Of course they do," Michael said warmly, picking himself up from the piece of floor he had (literally) been flung to and putting his hands on a few of the kids' shoulders, hugging them close to him. "This is Rina – " he pointed to her, and she waved, her face glowing with mirth " – and Demeter." I smiled, letting a real feeling of excitement and relief creep onto my features. They were all so cute…
"Now, I expect you all to behave and be very nice to them," Michael said mock-sternly, locking down into their pale faces. "All right?"
"Tchah," one of them piped up. "Of course we will, Mikey. What do you think we are?"
"Wild animals," Michael deadpanned. His grin grew a little bit. "Go on then, introduce yourselves!"
"I'm 'Lizabeth!" the first girl called, dancing up and down hyperactively on her toes. I recognized her from the lobby – she had been the brunette waif who had clung to Michael then, and now she was doing it again, grabbing a hold of his leg and laying her cheek on his hip. "I'm a big girl – I'm almost seven!"
"Big whoop, ditzy," the next child said with an overemphasized tone of bravado, a skinny little black-haired boy who looked barely older than Elizabeth. "I'm Paul. I'm eight." Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at him as Michael looked down at the next kid.
"Laura." This girl looked quite similar to Elizabeth, but her hair was darker and she was taller, her eyes slate grey and steady. "H-hi."
"I'm Adam," the next boy said. He was the oldest one so far, and again I recognized him – the brunette boy, his hair quite light, had been down in the lobby as well. He was perhaps ten or eleven, and had an open, honest face. Michael was smiling at him fondly, and I got the feeling that perhaps he was a little more mature than his rougher playmates.
"Pyotr. I am fourteen." This boy, also a brunette (but with darker hair than Adam), had a heavy Russian accent. He looked like he was just starting to go through his first teenage growth spurt, as his body looked thin and stretched, giving him a rangy aspect overall. He nodded politely at both Rina and I, and then turned away, trotting further into the room.
Finally the last orphan, a girl, looked shyly up at us, her white-blond hair glowing faintly in the sunlight which was pouring into the room from several large bay windows on either side. "I'm Victoria," she said softly. "I'm nine. And I love to dance!"
"That you do," Michael said cheerfully to her. "And you're very good at it, aren't you?"
"Yeah!"
"And of course you've already met Jemima," Michael continued, gesturing to where Jemima was hesitantly tripping up to him. As he spoke the little girl came up to his leg and grasped it much as Elizabeth was doing, two fingers stuck in her mouth.
I knelt down and smiled at her kindly, keeping my expression open and friendly. "And how old are you, Jemima?" I asked.
The little darling looked nervously up at Michael as though asking permission to speak. When he nodded kindly at her, she glanced up at me and, with her fingers still in her mouth, mumbled "Five."
"And a very precious five-year-old you are too!" a new, motherly voice broke in. Jemima squealed as she was swept up into the arms of the red-haired woman I had seen behind Michael. The other children quickly scattered, scampering away from us into the rest of the room, which I saw was laid out neatly and efficiently in a sort of dormitory, lined with metal-framed beds and tables. Jemima giggled as the woman holding her nuzzled her cheek, and I found myself confronted a moment later by the matron's outstretched hand.
"Jennifer Dotherings. Pleased to meet you, my dears!"
I couldn't help but smile as I shook her hand, instantly put at ease by her friendly manner. Rina in her turn received a firm greeting, and then Jennifer let Jemima down out of her arms and patted the young girl on the back, sending her off to play with her more rambunctious friends.
"And what are your names, you pretty young things?" Jennifer prattled on cheerfully as she turned back to us, adjusting her eccentric headwear as she did so. "My word, you are pretty young things indeed. You will need to watch yourself, Michael."
If Michael was blushing, it was nothing compared to the flush I could feel spreading across my cheekbones. I thought I saw Jennifer's eyes twinkle slyly for a moment, but then it was gone. "I- I'm Demeter," I said, managing to get over my astonishment. "But please, call me Demi."
"How beautiful," Jenny crooned, reaching out to give me a motherly pat on the cheek. "And what about this firebrand here?"
"Rina."
"Lovely – just lovely!" Jennifer sighed, clapping her hands together. "It will certainly be a help having you around here, I must say. The children are all such dears, but they can be very tiring at times. Sometimes I really don't know how I manage."
"You managed like a perfect angel," Michael said firmly, pulling Jennifer into a one-armed hug. "This place would fall apart without you and you know it."
"Little charmer," Jennifer giggled. "You and your brother will be the death of me someday with your cheeky ways."
Inwardly, I agreed most wholeheartedly. But Michael only laughed and shook his head, and Jennifer, after giving each of us a peck on the cheek, hurried away to separate Paul and Elizabeth, who had been scuffling over some toy a few yards away.
"Well," Michael said gently, "I think it might be time for you two and I to get to know each other a little better – just so we can get along while we're working. Come, let's sit down."
Rina and I followed him a little ways into the dormitory until we reached a long metal table, surrounded by benches and chairs. Little splatters of food scattered across the tabletop made me think that this was where the children must have eaten most of their meals. Michael walked to the far end of the table and sat down, gesturing for the two of us to do likewise. Rina instantly did so, crossing her legs comfortably, while I followed a bit more slowly and sat on the edge of my chair, watching the children playing out of the corner of my eye.
Paul had just jumped on top of Pyotr, much to the older boy's chagrin – it looked as those he had been trying to read as he lay stretched out on one of the beds, and he threw the younger child off him with a snarl of annoyance. Unperturbed, Paul turned his attention to Laura and bounded towards her, leapfrogging over her back in a surprisingly athletic manner. Laura. In her turned, merely groaned and batter him away towards Victoria, who was sitting on the floor doing some rather painful-looking stretches. As I watched, she pointed her toes hard, flexed them back, and then dragged one of her legs around so she was sitting in a perfect forward split, looking for all the world like a young gymnast.
My attention was slowly dragged back as I realized Michael and Rina had been chatting animatedly behind me, and suddenly heard "So what are you majoring in, Demi?"
I looked around sharply, barely registering that Michael had called me 'Demi' for the first time. He was looking at me kindly, one hand resting lightly on the table top. I mentally shook my head, furious at myself for being so completely overwhelmed by him. That's it, I told myself. Eyes cannot physically be that green. It's impossible. He's wearing contacts. He must be wearing contacts.
I gulped, and finally managed to find my voice – "I'm double-majoring," I said quietly. "Public health and sociology."
"Really?" he leaned closer, and I had to steel myself against blinking. "I majored in sociology too!"
"Where did you go to school, then?" Rina challenged, and I silently thanked her for taking the conversation into her own hands.
Michael laughed. "I double-majored at Brown University – sociology and psychology. I also took enough courses to minor in dance, but Brown doesn't give minors – "
"Dance?" I burst out curiously. "That's really cool!"
He blushed a little, and I found my heart skipping a beat again. Damn it all to hell, stop that!
"Yes, dance," Michael continued, smiling at me as if forgiving my interruption. "I sometimes audition for small parts around Boston – nothing spectacular, but then I never intended to make a career out of it…"
He was cut off as a shrill beeping noise floated through the air, and I realized with some embarrassment that it was coming from my trouser pocket, where I kept my increasingly old and dented cellphone. Pulling it out of my pocket with a mutter of apology, I saw that I hadn't actually received a call – the phone was merely sounding an alarm. It was ten o'clock. "Oh…."
"Ah, crap," Rina said. "Sorry Michael – we have classes at 10:30. Mr. Jenkins only said we'd be needed down here for a short appointment…"
"That's absolutely fine," Michael said kindly as all three of us stood up. "I'm sure my father will be sorry to have missed you. You're scheduled to come in next on Wednesday afternoon, is that right?"
"Yeah," I said. "I think that's right."
"Well, thank you both very much for coming," he said, shaking Rina's hand, then turning to me, suddenly professional. "We really appreciate your coming and being here."
His hand was even warmer than before as it enveloped mine, and I grinned as he smiled at me gently. "We'll see you then," I said quietly.
"Definitely."
And with that, Rina grabbed my arm and pulled me along with her as we went out of the dormitory (the shrieks of the children echoing behind us), down the stairs (pausing at the third floor so Rina could try and spot Tom Jenkins again), out through the lobby (we both nodded to the ever-serene Alonzo, who was still studiously at his monitors) and out into the street, blinking in the bright morning sunshine.
My classes that day still seem just a whirl of colors and sounds, not making any real sense at all. I do vaguely remember some of my other classmates giggling at the starry-eyed look on my face, and one of the cafeteria ladies having to ask me three times for my money as I stood silently in front of her, daydreaming – but not much else.
I seemed to come out of my romance-induced fog sometime around dinnertime, when Rina and I had both found our way back to our messy dorm room. Rina was giggling and flicking her hair about in front of our mirror, rhapsodizing about Tom Jenkins, whom she declared to be "the hottest" guy she had ever met. I managed to agree with her quietly while lying on my own bed, staring up at the ceiling.
But apparently that wasn't enough for her – I found myself suddenly covered into a veil of red hair as Rina hovered above me, grinned wickedly. "And what about you, missy?" she said mischievously. "I saw the way you were looking at Michael. You've made a good choice, girl."
I blushed hotly and tried to roll away, but she followed me, tickling me and making me shriek with laughter as I tried to get away. "Rina! Come on, leave me alone!"
Rina giggled and flopped down on my bed, her expression turning sweet and concerned. "But you do like him, don't you? I could tell."
I blushed even more, hugging one of my soft pillows. "Really? Was I that obvious?"
"Well, no," Rina said seriously. "Maybe it's just because I've known you so long that I knew. But still, good choice. I'd go for him myself if he wasn't so serious."
"Rina!"
"What? It's a free country," she retorted cheerfully.
We lay there in silence for a few minutes, the only sound that of our even breathing. After a few minutes, though, I could sense that Rina, as usual, was becoming restless. My prediction came true when she sighed melodramatically and sat up. "You know what?"
"What?" I mumbled, feeling sleepy as I pushed my head under another pillow.
"I feel like going to Jillian's again tonight," she said, grinning slyly. "And you're coming with me!"
"Huh? What – Rina, get off! Ow! No, not the tube top – no, no, no, no, no, no! Rina!"
In a town with a sporting tradition as deeply entrenched as Boston and a baseball team as beloved as the Red Sox, it is only natural that there be a plethora of sports bars to house the team's fanatical supporters, and such it was with Jillian's Bar, Grille, Club, Arcade, etc, etc. In Boston lore Jillian's was, is, and shall be without end, amen. The club was housed in a fairly seedy-looking building just behind Fenway Park, but once inside it gave off an air of everything but decay. The whole building hummed with life, music, and various and sundry drinks every evening, particularly when there was a game on.
As Rina pulled me in (her dressed in a very provocative red dress and me desperately trying to keep my jean jacket closed over my bare midriff), I was nearly rendered blind by the dark interior, where I could just make out the form of a bar through the clouds of artificial smoke, strobe lights, and writing, twisting forms of people dancing. I blinked and tried not to cough while Rina checked her coat and came sauntering back towards me, her lithe, curvy form catching glances and catcalls as she went.
"Well, hey hey!" a familiar voice said in my ear. I jumped slightly and turned around, to find myself barely two inches away from a grinning Thomas Jenkins. He had changed since we had seen him at the Junkyard, and was now wearing a white wifebeater and black leather pants which were so tight I wondered that he had hadn't gotten arrested for indecent exposure. Around his head was wound a leopard skin-patterned bandanna.
"What are you doing here?" I choked out, not sure whether to be surprised or to burst out into peals of laughter.
His grin widened. "What, I'm not allowed to have fun in my off-duty hours?"
"Ah – n-no," I stammered. What possessed me to keep talking I'll never know, but I suddenly blurted out, "Is Michael here too?"
Tom didn't seem to notice my blush or nervousness. "Mr. Stuffed Shirt? Nah, he never leaves the shelter. I don't even think the idiot knows how to have fun!" He caught sight of Rina over my shoulder, and immediately his eye popped out theatrically, and he wolf-whistled cheekily. "Now that's a sight," he crowed. "How goes it?"
"Much better now you're here," Rina said gruffly, and I groaned aloud as she sashayed over to Tom, pulling him quickly into the mass of couples on the dance floor. I rolled my eyes and pushed myself further into one corner of the room, not quite sure what to do now that my 'escort' had deserted me.
Time passed, and I felt more and more out of place with each second which crawled by, lamenting my decision to let Rina drag me along. If someone had bothered to ask me, I would have much preferred being back in our dorm room, alone with a book and maybe some hot chocolate …or even at the Junkyard, taking care of the children and chatting with Jennifer Dotherings…or with…
After a while I shook my head and pushed my way through the sweaty, smelly crowd, wrinkling my nose as I tried to reach the bar – not for any alcohol (I was over twenty-one, but didn't have any intention of drinking liquor anyway), but just for something cool and wet to counteract the sweat I could feel trickling down the back of my shirt. As I finally managed to squeeze myself into a free place at the counter and caught the attention of a barman, I looked behind me to see Rina dancing with a man I hadn't seen before – and dancing rather…freely at that.
She seemed to have abandoned Thomas, as he was nowhere in sight, and was instead twirling and being enveloped in the arms of a tall man with a rather disheveled mane of red-auburn hair. I couldn't really see his face, but made out what looked like expensive dark trousers and a silk shirt, and a watch on his wrist which looked like a Rolex – not the cheap kind bought for two bucks in an airport, but a real one. Not the sort of customer you would generally see at Jillian's, to say the least.
I watched him and Rina somewhat awkwardly until I felt a hand tap my shoulder. It was the barman with the glass of tonic water I had ordered, and I turned away just in time – the man's lips had just descended on Rina's practically bare shoulder, and I didn't want to look any more. Against my will, even in that crowded, dark, deafening place, my mind began to wander back to the events of the morning…and back to a dark head of hair, and piercing green eyes…
And again, just in case it was confusing… Demeter Felina: Demeter, Rina Baxter: Bombalurina, Michael Jenkins: Munkustrap, Thomas Jenkins: Rum Tum Tugger, Alonzo Boots: Alonzo, Jennifer Dotherings: Jennyanydots, Daniel Jenkins: Old Deuteronomy, Jemima: Jemima (d'oh.), 'Lizzy'/Elizabeth: Etcetera, 'Vicky'/Victoria: Victoria, Bruce: Tumblebrutus, Jerri Lars: Jellylorum, Laura: Electra, Paul: Pouncival, Adam: Admetus, Pyotr: Plato. Remember, R&R!!!
