Author's Notes: Most important thing first. The building in a bag that Malcolm references in the second section? That's a real thing. I found out about them while I was doing research about underground cities (don't ask about the correlation, I don't remember what led me to that site). Google 'concrete canvas.' Also, I went to see 'Into the Storm' on Saturday afternoon, and the relationship the hero of the movie (Gary) had with his two sons in the beginning influenced the conversation between Malcolm and Tommy. Also, I'm not entirely comfortable with the way I wrote Tommy … for some reason, Malcolm seems to be easier for me to write than Tommy.
Chapter Two
Connections
Chicago, Illinois
The Following Day
NEST Outpost-Pedway
Anyone who was listening could hear an animated conversation occurring between two women as they traversed the corridors under Chicago, a small girl between them, holding both of their hands as they bantered. The already-animated debate culminated as the slightly-taller woman ranted at her companion, "You do realize that you're speaking heresy? I mean … that's absolutely taste heresy. No, no, it's beyond heresy, that borders on blasphemy!"
"You do realize that my give-a-crud is broken beyond all repair at this point?"
Josie huffed and glared at Angie over Annabelle Lennox's head. Josie was among the few co-workers who remained in Chicago after the Decepticon attack. Angie still wasn't sure what her friend was staying for … immediately after the blockade was broken, the other woman expressed a desire to get the hell out of Chicago and return to her native state of Missouri. And yet, she was still here … helping NEST and looking after people whose homes were destroyed by the Decepticons (Angie knew that Autobots took out some of those houses as well, but the Decepticons started it … and yes, she knew she was being childish. She just didn't care).
"You're both being silly," Annabelle announced, clinging to the hands of both women. Angie was dubious (at best) when Will told her that he was flying his wife and daughter here … from a public relations standpoint, she could see where he was coming from. Not that Will was looking at things from a public relations standpoint. Even so, Angie realized what a powerful statement the colonel was making … he trusted the Autobots with the two most precious people in the world to him. He wanted his wife and daughter nearby, wanted the solace of their company and their love as they all mourned the loss of a dear friend. Angie never met Ironhide … he died before the final assault, murdered by Sentinel Prime, but from what she heard, it sounded like he would have either scared her to death or been a mother hen. According to Bobby (Sergeant Epps), the two weren't mutually exclusive. Well, he would know.
"Yes, we are … so let that be a lesson to you, little miss!" Josie retorted, reaching down with her free hand to poke Annabelle's side. The little girl squeaked and giggled, shifting closer to Angie. Of course, what she didn't realize was that gave Josie even more room to tickle her. Much later, Angie would look back on the sequence of events that followed and shake her head in amazement. If Josie hadn't tickled the little girl, if Annabelle hadn't seen her father seemingly alone in a room, if … if Will hadn't been in a meeting with an extremely wealthy potential ally. Ifs could drive a person totally around the bend.
But all of those things did happen, with Annabelle happily screeching, "Daddy!" as she tore free of Angie's restraining hand and raced into the room. Will, of course, was turning even as his daughter crossed the threshold of the door and scooped her into his arms. He raised his brows at the two women who were walking his daughter back to her mother (after she was satisfied that Optimus really was all right) and Angie blushed. She started to tell him that they had a small breach, but it was then that she saw the man who Will was meeting with: someone who was quite possibly the most handsome man she'd ever seen. He was around six feet tall and broad-shouldered. It was her considered opinion that his dark hair was combed a little too neatly, but that didn't detract from his good looks at all … and he had blue eyes. Oh, Lord help her. She was an absolute sucker for men with dark hair and blue eyes … had been ever since she first met DJ Hendricks back in seventh grade.
Those blue eyes were now focused on her with unnerving intensity. She wasn't used to having men look at her like that … she was even more unused to having a handsome man look at her like that. Will cleared his throat, drawing her attention back to him and the little girl he even now held on one hip. Angie blinked as if she'd been staring into the sun too long, and Will said with a half-smile, "Do I even want to know what the two of you were arguing about? Mr. Merlyn and I could hear you as you came down the hall … especially you, Josie."
That, Angie didn't doubt at all, and felt her cheeks burning. She had to admit, though, she was more than a little impressed with her friend's self-control, as she explained in her most sedate voice, "Sorry about that, Colonel Lennox, but you'll understand. Or maybe you won't … maybe it's a woman thing." Angie rolled her eyes, and noticed the colonel's companion was smirking … a little smirk, but it was there. Josie went on, "Angie was explaining that she didn't like Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream, and I …" Uhm, wait, what? That wasn't what Angie said at all, and Josie knew that. Her friend stopped, looking from Angie to Will to the newcomer, before saying a bit sheepishly, "Not gonna buy that, are you?"
"Considering that's a conversation Angie and Sarah have had on more than one occasion? No. Angie may not see … or rather, taste … the hype around Ben and Jerry's, but she also doesn't dislike the brand. Hyperbole much, there, Josephine?" Will inquired, the corners of his lips twitching with barely concealed amusement. Angie muttered, 'oh, burn' under her breath, because Josie hated her real name. Why, she didn't know, but the quickest way to irritate her friend was to call her 'Josephine.' Will continued, "Ladies, this is Malcolm Merlyn, who has offered to assist the refugees with housing. Mr. Merlyn, this is Angeline Curtis and Josephine Tucker, two of the civilians who have been incredibly helpful since the end of the blockade."
Josie, true to form, was the first to react, offering her hand to the dark-haired man. He accepted it with a reserved smile, and Josie said, "Thank you. We all appreciate the safety of the Pedway, but I think we'll all appreciate not being stepped on even more." That made his small smile widen further, and then his intense blue gaze switched to Angie as Josie stepped back. She found her (much) smaller hand engulfed in a firm, but not overpowering, grip. Angie appreciated that. She hated limp handshakes nearly as much as she did crushing ones.
"It's a pleasure to meet you both … and you, Miss Annabelle. Colonel, I'll be in touch concerning the supplies I mentioned … I should have that organized by the end of the day tomorrow," the man answered. And much to her amusement, when Annabelle offered her tiny hand from the vantage point of her father's arms, just as Angie and Josie did, he pressed a light kiss to the back of her hand, making Annabelle giggle (and Angie melt, just a little bit). He nodded to the three adults, before joining Bobby Epps, who waited at the door. Hmm. Evidently, Bobby was on escort duty today. She wondered if he was planning to bring Monique and their five kids to Chicago, as Will brought Sarah and Annabelle.
There was a brief silence as the footsteps of the two men echoed away, and then Josie turned to face Angie with a devious expression. Oh God. She knew that expression. Nothing good ever happened (to her) when Josie wore that expression. Angie's experience held true a moment later when Josie crowed, clapping her hands with obvious delight, "He was checking you out … oh, he was so totally checking you out, Angie! Will, tell this girl that Malcolm Merlyn was checking her out!" Angie rolled her eyes, and turned a pleading expression to the Colonel.
He, however, was staring at her with a thoughtful expression, and Angie said with more than a touch of exasperation, "He was doing no such thing! Men who look like Malcolm Merlyn don't even pay attention to women like me. Please … your overactive imagination is running away with you again!" Of course, that was akin to waving a red flag in front of a bull. But really, what did Josie expect to happen when she made such a ridiculous assertion? Angie told the quiet voice in the back of her mind, the one that was reminding her of the way Malcolm Merlyn looked at her so intently, as if he'd seen her before, to please shut up before she drop-kicked it. And Will was still eyeing her thoughtfully.
"I don't know if he was checking you out, Ang … but you certainly had his attention. So. You're going to be my new liaison on this," Will commented. Angie's mouth fell open. She … what? Wait, what? But she didn't do liaising! She had no idea how to liaise (was that even a word? Well, it was now). Will put his daughter on the ground and took a quick step forward, placing both hands on Angie's shoulders. He said, his dark eyes boring into hers, "You won't be doing it alone, I promise. If I'm not there, Bobby will be."
"But … but … but … I don't know what I should be doing. How exactly do I liaise, anyhow?" Angie retorted, flapping her hands helplessly. Josie snickered and Angie turned her best Death Glare on her friend. Josie actually swallowed and took a half step back, raising her hands defensively. Angie returned her attention to Will, repeating somewhat plaintively, "I have no idea how to liaise … I'm an office worker turned refugee worker, Colonel." As well as a refugee herself, and just why was he smiling at her like that?
"Angie, what do you think you do when I ask you to check with the cooks about supplies?" he asked patiently. The question almost literally stopped Angie in her tracks and she stared at him in shock. She was vaguely aware that her mouth was hanging open in a rather unattractive manner, but her brain was still struggling to reboot. Will continued, "What you do down here? You do a lot of liaison work, you just never called it by that before now. And like I said, you won't be alone. You're familiar to Merlyn somehow, so he'll be more comfortable with you. It'll be fine. Trust me." Trust me … famous last words. And she did trust Will.
She just hoped she wouldn't end up regretting that.
TFTFTFTFTFTF
Angeline Curtis. Her name was Angeline Curtis. It was so much easier to keep his pledge to forget the tiny, brave, foolish woman who snuck under his protective layers when he didn't know her name. This morning, he awoke with renewed determination to see the Undertaking done … perhaps in a new form, but the swamp had to be drained. His picture of Rebecca and Tommy was still clutched to his chest when he awoke, and that was a reminder of what he needed to do. For Rebecca's sake … for the sake of little boys whose mothers would come home to them at night … he would find another way to carry out the Undertaking. However, the Markov Device would not be used. Malcolm wasn't pleased about throwing away that much money, but it was steadily becoming apparent that using the device would only make things worse … much worse.
He also needed to keep the Markov Device, and its plans, far away from anyone who might find it and use it themselves. Possibly even destroy it, if he could find a way to destroy it completely, with no hope of recreation. But the Undertaking would go forward, in one form or another. He spent most of the morning leading up to his meeting with Colonel Will Lennox focusing on the best way forward. And his meeting with the Colonel was quite enlightening. The younger man acknowledged that there were fights and arguments and disputes, especially among people who never left the shelter of the Pedway, but for the most part, the refugees helped each other and NEST out. One enterprising refugee even organized the teenagers living in the Pedway and washed the Autobots. Malcolm had to smile at that, as well as Lennox's promise to show him the pictures at a later date.
And then Colonel Lennox's young daughter raced into the room, followed closely by two women. Malcolm actually felt his heart stop when his eyes fell upon the second woman. It was her. The woman from the night before, the woman who was taking food back to the Pedway shelter … the woman who he escorted back, instead of continuing on patrol. And now, she had a name. Angeline Curtis. Malcolm tried not to focus on her … Lennox clearly was not a fool, and he would certainly notice if Malcolm kept looking at someone working for him … but he couldn't be sure how successful he was. Nothing was said as Sergeant Epps escorted him back to the entrance, but that didn't tell him anything. And he had to put Angeline Curtis out of his mind. She had the potential to become a distraction, and he couldn't afford that.
On his way back to his hotel, Malcolm alternated between looking out the window at the wasteland that was once Chicago and down at his tablet as he considered what he learned from the meeting. His research told him a great deal about the human commander of NEST (to be distinguished from the nuclear response team) in terms of facts, but the meeting told him about the man himself … about the way he thought, about the way he interacted with others, about what was important to him. Right now, that was the people of Chicago and the Autobots.
Early in the meeting, Lennox acknowledged that the number one need they had was shelter. Malcolm learned from the concierge at his own hotel when he arrived that many of the hotels in the city, the ones not damaged by the blockade and subsequent attack, were sheltering people who lost their home in the attack. He couldn't/wouldn't say how the refugees were paying for their stay, if they were at all, and Malcolm resolved that he would contact the owners, see if there was something he could do to help there.
He actually had an idea about the people staying in the Pedway. While most of his energy during the last twenty years focused on the Undertaking, in all of its forms, he also did research into what would be needed after this particular man-made disaster. Of course, the biggest necessity would be shelter after the Undertaking, and he had concerns about the Glades becoming a tent city. He found what he was looking for in what some called a building in a bag. And really, that was exactly what it was.
Created by a pair of young inventors/engineers in the UK more than five years earlier, it could be set up in less than two hours by people who had no training, and ready for use within twenty-four hours. Malcolm considered it ideal, especially with its multitude of uses. One such shelter could be used as a NEST command center, while others were used as housing. That, he decided, would be his first priority, once he spoke the hotels about any assistance they might need. With shelter worked out, Malcolm next turned his attention to the issue of sustenance. In other words, arranging for the food to be brought to the Pedway, rather than have any soldiers or civilians go to local abandoned stores for retrievals.
According to the colonel, the problem wasn't exactly a lack of resources. As soon as the blockade ended, food and supplies began to flow in from other states. The trouble was getting those supplies to the Pedway. Malcolm smiled grimly, understanding what went unsaid. The soldiers protecting the refugees at the Pedway were experiencing the same problem he encountered during his first attempt to clean up the Glades … corruption. Well. He could take care of both the corruption issue and the transportation, and enjoy doing it.
He moved to the next item … sanitation. Again, it was a matter of transportation and corruption. Malcolm honestly marveled at the job Lennox was doing with the resources he had. And like the colonel, Malcolm sensed bad things were ahead for NEST and for the Autobots. Malcolm wasn't sure what he could do for the Autobots (he was still reeling from the encounter he had with the new Autobot second in command … was it Sidewinder? No … no, it was Sideswipe), but there was plenty he could do for NEST. He would have Legal look into that … maybe not a job offer, as he knew men like Will Lennox and Robert Epps would object to the Undertaking (in its current form), but something.
For now, he would return to his hotel room, and start working on his end. A glance at his cell phone informed him that his son called him while he was in his meetings at NEST command. Malcolm frowned thoughtfully. That was very unlike Tommy. He called up his calendar on his tablet, and glanced over the next week to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything important. No … it wasn't the anniversary of Rebecca's death, wasn't Tommy's own birthday, and Rebecca's birthday wasn't until the following week. With a small frown, Malcolm dialed his son's number and when the young man answered, sounding sleepy, he said, "Tommy, I noticed that you called … is everything all right?"
There was a long silence on the other end of the line, and then Tommy responded slowly, "Everything's fine, Dad. Your secretary told me that you were in Chicago, and I was … hell." His son suddenly sounded defeated, and Malcolm frowned, wondering if he'd forgotten to tell Tommy before he left. No … no, he was certain that he mentioned it. Tommy went on after a moment, "I … I just … next week is Mom's birthday, and I guess …" Malcolm was no mind-reader, but he could guess where this was going. He glanced out the window, at the devastation wrought that was far worse than anything he could dream up.
After a moment, he said, "I'm in Chicago to see if I can help with anything. I've spoken with the military commander here, met with him today to see what they need." Tommy scoffed at that, and Malcolm struggled to hold onto his patience. He reminded himself that he hadn't given Tommy reason to have faith in him and continued resolutely, "My plan is to be back in Starling City by the end of the week. I hadn't forgotten your mother's birthday." Everything about Rebecca was engraved on Malcolm's mind and heart … her scent, her smile, what she loved, what enraged her. Tommy was silent for several moments, and Malcolm said slowly, "I'm going to put her favorite flowers on her grave … daisies with sprigs of baby's breath and honeysuckle." There was a disbelieving laugh and Malcolm braced himself for his son's rejection.
But Tommy's voice held a note of cautious hope as he asked, "You … you want to put flowers on Mom's grave. On her birthday. Dad … you've never …" His voice trailed off, and Malcolm didn't speak. It really didn't matter what he said, because nothing he said was right. Rebecca was the one who was always free with her affections. It was never that Malcolm didn't love Tommy. But even before Rebecca died, even before his own spiral out of control, he was never as demonstrative as she was. And unfortunately, his son was right. Even though he loved Rebecca, even though she and Tommy were the most important people in his life, he never put flowers on Rebecca's grave in the years since she died (since she was murdered, literally giving her life's blood to the Glades). He certainly couldn't blame his son for not believing him now. Tommy asked softly, "Dad … what did you see in Chicago?"
Malcolm almost laughed at the question, even as serious as it was. What did he see in Chicago? Everything. Nothing. A woman who looked nothing like his late wife, but who reminded him of Rebecca nonetheless. In the end, Malcolm said softly, "It isn't important, Tommy. I just wanted to make sure that you're all right." It was unlike his son to call him … even more unlike him to question any of Malcolm's secretaries about his whereabouts, regardless of the circumstances and/or the reasons. He was a lousy father, he knew that, but this was unusual behavior for his son. Malcolm added, "I'll see you at the end of the week." He didn't say, 'I love you.' He hadn't said those words since Rebecca died, and he wasn't sure if he could ever say them again. He wasn't even sure if he was still capable of love. What he did know was that Tommy was all he had left of Rebecca … and he couldn't fail her again.
TWTWTWTWTWTWTW
Tommy Merlyn slowly placed his cell phone back on the nightstand, staring at it as if he'd never seen it before. He should have been … what was wrong with him? He actually believed that his father had every intention of returning, just to … none of this made sense! Tommy groaned and dropped his head into his hands, inadvertently waking his bed partner. Laurel Lance said in a sleep-thick voice, "Tommy? What's wrong?"
The question sounded too much like his father's inquiry when he called Tommy back, and the Merlyn scion looked at his on-again off-again girlfriend, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words. A small hand came to rest between his shoulder blades, and Tommy had a sudden, strong … impression, of a big, warm hand settled on his back. He couldn't remember the last time his father touched him like that. Not since his mother died, and the words spilled out of him. His unexpected encounter with his father's lead secretary … the revelations that he was in Chicago, Chicago of all places … his father's declaration that he would return in time for the anniversary of his mom's birth to lay flowers on her grave, something he'd never done before. And finally, his father returning his phone call.
Laurel murmured, "I'd never realized before today … you still love him. You hate him for not being there after your mom died, and for being so distant since then, but you do still love him." Tommy started to protest, starting to remind his girlfriend of all the small things over the last twenty years that added up to a great big ball of hurt, but Laurel went on, "You do. You still love him. Tommy … you still call him 'dad.' Even though he hasn't behaved like one in a long time, you still call him 'dad.' And you called him. You were worried about him."
That was the worst part of it. Laurel was right. When his dad's secretary told him in the coffee shop that his father was in Chicago … Chicago, which was the location of a mega-throwdown between two factions of giant alien robots … Tommy's heart stopped. He thought he had nothing left to lose, with the distance already between himself and his father. His best friend was lost at sea and presumed dead. His mother was murdered by a lowlife scum when he was still a child. All he had was Laurel, really.
Until those fateful words were spoken. 'Oh. Mr. Merlyn is in Chicago on business.' And Tommy Merlyn realized that oh yes, there was still something to be lost. He could still lose his father, not to distance but to death. He still had his father, however distant they both were over the last several years. That was why he called his dad's cell while Laurel slept beside him. Because he needed to know that his dad really was all right … needed to hear his dad's voice. Tommy hated that. He hated that there was still a part of him that felt reassured … that needed to hear his daddy's voice to make him feel safe. He hated it because it had been so long since he felt truly safe. But wishing it away didn't make it so.
Laurel was right. He did still love his father, despite all of the disappointments, big and small, over the years. Tommy was barely eight years old when his mother died. In truth, he'd lost both parents at the same time. His mother was murdered and his father was left a hollow shell. Laurel's arms snaked around his waist, and her chin came to rest on his shoulder as she whispered, "Tommy, it's okay. It's okay to still love him. I've never stopped loving Sara, after all." Sara, who died with Oliver on the Queen's Gambit … Sara, who was sleeping with him, even as he was sleeping with Laurel. Tommy didn't tell her that it wasn't the same thing, because she knew that all ready.
"I don't … what do I do, Laurel? The man I just talked to, he isn't the same Malcolm Merlyn I've known for the last twenty years. Something's happened, something's broken through those walls he's used to protect himself, and I don't know what it is," Tommy answered hoarsely. It wasn't just that, though. Yes, his father built high walls around his heart to protect himself after they lost their wife and mother, but he used those walls to keep Tommy out as well. And now, something made a crack in that wall … something that wasn't Tommy, and yeah, he was jealous. Of course he was jealous!
"Right now? You don't do anything. You come back to bed, and you let me hold you. You work out what you're going to do when your father comes back to Starling. But that idea of you and he going to your mother's grave on her birthday? I think that's a really good first step," Laurel answered. Tommy considered her words, before nodding slowly. He turned in her arms, burying his face against her neck as she held him tightly. It took him forever to fall asleep, even with Laurel's hands moving soothingly over his neck and back and hair. The same question was repeating itself in Tommy's mind, over and over again …
What happened to his father in Chicago? What had happened, what was happening? And, most importantly of all … was it too late for the two of them to be a family again?
TBC