Flashbacks of the Present
CHAPTER 2
…Now…
Marie turned to Jesse, seeing him look out the passenger seat window silently. She turned back to the road, and continued to drive.
Then she heard him take something out of his bag, and put on his earphones and switch on his I-Pod. She looked at him, thinking he was avoiding confrontation. Then he looked at her and took the earphones off.
"I hate uncomfortable silences," he stated simply.
Then she smiled slightly. He put on the earphones, and continued to look anywhere, everywhere, but at her. Then she sighed, but knew he couldn't hear her. She found herself thinking of way back then, after she, John, Bobby and Logan had escaped the Academy after Stryker's army attacked. That's just what your dad said…
Another long ten minutes, and they were there at Meg's house, a friend of hers.
"Bye," she said as Jesse unbuckled his seatbelt and left the car.
She watched him go, then found herself in a pool of tears. She just lost control, and started crying into her hands, tears falling quickly down them and down her cheeks. She continued doing so for a few more moments, then dried up the tears of hurt and pain, and straightened up. She heard knocking on the driver seat window, and turned. Jesse was there. He was smiling slightly, though looked in pain as well. She rolled down the window, and looked at him with her puffy eyes. She dried more tears away.
"Mom…" he started. She stopped him and spoke instead.
"No…honey…just go to Meg's, okay? I'm fine."
"I'll hate him forever."
"Don't. Just…don't. Don't make that decision yet. You haven't even gotten the chance to know him."
"And if I don't want to?"
"Jesse."
His defense faltered, and he pulled his backpack higher.
"Tell Meg thanks," Marie added. He nodded, and she ruffled his hair once more, like she always did.
"Other mothers would want their sons looking as neat as ever," he stated jokingly.
"Well, I'm not like other mothers," she replied, smiling now. He nodded, and turned, starting to head into the building. "No trouble!" she called out to him. He nodded without turning back, and went in through the doors.
…Nearly five years ago…
"Jesse?" Marie asked, poking her head into the danger room, looking for him.
She'd left him with Logan. But somehow, Logan had lost him. Not impossible, though. Jesse had a sorta thing with causing trouble. He liked it. He liked playing around with the authority. Just like his father, she always thought when things like this would happen. She left that room, and made it down the hall way. He suddenly came rushing towards her from around the corner.
"Mom!" he said excitedly. "Look what I can do!"
She watched as he took out one of Logan's lighters. She jumped to take it from him, but he had already lit a fire. It swam over to the top of his fingers, which he held close, and then as he opened his palm, it grew a little bigger and stood above it. He let the lighter shut off, and she looked at him in awe and groaned within. Fire? Fire? Why not something less harmless? Less like his father? But Jesse glanced at her.
"Isn't it cool?" he asked. Then he returned his attention to the fire. "I like it."
"It's…nice," she said unsurely. He then clenched his hand, and the flames died instantly. He looked at her, and she came closer, taking the lighter from his hands. "It's what your dad does."
Then he looked up at her, and nodded slightly. "Oh…" Then he added, "What did you use to do?"
"Nothing rather important," she said simply. Then she hugged him tightly. "Don't misuse that, okay?"
"Why? Did daddy misuse it?"
"Yeah," she said after a while. "He did."
"And what happened?"
"He got hurt."
…A week before John left…
He kissed her as the morning sun came in through the curtains. She smiled, and her hand grasped his lightly. He tightened the grip with his own hand, and kissed her once more. Then she moved back a little, and he grimaced in pain. He was still heavily bruised, cut, and just plain in agony from Alcatraz. She noticed his pain, and sat up.
"You okay?" she asked.
He thought for a half a moment, then looked up at her, a grin creeping up onto his face.
"I have you, don't I?" he said as he moved in and kissed her again.
…Now…
"Hey!" Logan called as Jesse exited Meg's car around twelve o'clock. He was carrying a bag filled with burgers, fries and drinks from Jesse's favourate fast food joint. Jesse smiled, and allowed him to pull him close around the neck. "Been practicing?" Logan asked, looking at him suspiciously.
"Yeah. I mean…I haven't finished a project worth a quart of my term marks just to do so!" Jesse replied enthusiastically. "I'm telling mom tonight!"
Logan let go of him. He looked at the kid slightly uncomfortably. Then Jesse's expression changed.
"I'm kidding," he said. Logan looked relieved.
"Your mom would kill me," he said.
"She seems too busy to kill you though," Jesse said.
He opened the house door, and walked in, holding the bag high above his head as Scout tried to jump for it. Logan scratched the dog behind the ear and it looked pleased to see him as well. He couldn't help but laugh inside at the story behind the dog's name.
He remembered saying that it looked like a boy scout…and reminded him of Scott…then suddenly, the pup yapped at the sound of boy scout, but the three of them thought that in favor of it, instead of naming Boy Scout, it'd just be Scout. Less embarrassing, really. It wasn't an insult to Scott. More like a…tribute, possibly. Plus anyway, they showed the dog a lot of love and care.
"Why?" Logan asked. They sat down at the kitchen table, and he took out the food, throwing a fry at the dog, who caught it instantly and swallow the thing whole.
"Dad came this morning," Jesse said miserably.
"What?!" Logan demanded. "That scum actually bothered to show up?!" He stood up, his fist landing on the table. He looked annoyed. Outraged, even. Angry.
"Yeah…" Jesse said, explaining everything. "I don't know why though…" he added at the end of his explanation. "But mom was crying this morning. I think he's coming tonight."
"To see you."
"I guess," Jesse shrugged, taking a big bite of the burger.
"If he does anything…" Logan started. Marie and Jesse were like family to him. The only thing he didn't like about that was that it considerably made him a sort of grandfather.
"I know. Call you." Then he tried to look indifferent.
Logan left it at that. He knew Jesse. He'd talk when he was ready to. And he knew that the kid wasn't.
Jesse however, put the burger down, and took out a lighter. It was a Zippo as well. He flicked it open in a manner that struck Logan so much of the thought of John. Then he lit it, and took the fire in his hands, watching it with deep concentration. It whirled away into nothingness and then he ignited in slight fire, and disappeared. He appeared later on the other side of the table, grinning with pride at his accomplishment.
"Impressive…highly impressive…" Logan remarked, smirking.
"Oh, come on!" the kid said loudly. "You can say better than that!"
…Two years ago…
"Mom…" ten-year-old Jesse started as they walked into the grocery store. He saw the cigarette stand, and eyed it with interest. "Y'know…since I have the power of manipulating fire…I'll be needing a lighter…won't I?"
His mom turned to him with suspicion. "Really?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said sincerely. "Can I get one?"
"Maybe…" she stalled, taking a shopping cart and heading forward. "If you were, say, to be allowed to get one…which one would you get?" Jesse then pulled her by the arm excitedly, leaving behind the cart, and dragged her to the cigarette stand. He pointed at the lighter he wanted, and Marie felt her heart sink.
A Zippo. Steel shining brilliantly. On it…not the shark jaws on John's, but with flames running up it from the bottom.
Then she ended up smiling. She was a parent, and heck was she proud of her son's capabilities, no matter how much they reminded her of his father. Then they walked away.
"Well, can I get it?" he asked her as they returned to the cart. Marie thought for a moment.
"Okay…" she said slowly. He clapped his hands together.
"Yes!" she heard him say in joy.
…Now…
Jesse entered his room. He dropped onto the bed, and closed his eyes, trying to relax. The light was off. He didn't like it that much. He liked the darkness. Yes, yes, yes, he was ready to accept he was indeed a weird kid. He found himself laughing at the small pun. Then he opened his eyes, and flicked his lighter on and off. It wasn't just something he did when he was bored, he liked hearing the sound, knowing he had all that power. It was good. It only pained him that he couldn't take the thing to school. He kept it in his side table drawer to keep it safe. Then there was a knock on the door. He sat up, confused. His mom never knocked. He saw who it was. Dad. He sat up, and crossed his legs onto his bed. His dad smiled slightly.
"It's dark in here…" he noted. Then he as his son for an expression allowing him to enter. Jesse nodded. John took a step inside, and shut the door behind him.
"The switch is over there," Jesse added quietly, pointing somewhere next to him. John flicked the switch and the lights blinked a few times before they finally turned on.
"Hey," John said simply.
Jesse nodded, and he shut the lighter. John looked at it. He took out his own and showed it to the kid, who nodded in agreement, still looking indifferent.
"I…I heard that your birthday's coming up…" John said slowly.
Jesse shrugged. "Nothing important," he said casually.
"Really?"
"I've had many birthdays before," Jesse said. Then his tone became quieter. "I remember…you weren't there for…well, any of them." Then he smiled, but something in his smile told John that along with sarcasm, there was pain.
"I'm sorry," he said, trying to sound as apologetic as he could. "It was a mistake –"
"Why are you here, dad?" Jesse interrupted. John froze. He still wasn't used to that term, but inside he felt a sort of rush, and tried as hard as he could not to grin.
"I'm here…for your birthday," he said, still trying to figure the question out himself. Jesse didn't buy it.
"Really? Why now?" he asked.
"Jesse –" John began.
"No, dad. Why now? Why are you here? Just for my birthday?" His cold, low voice rose a little into an angry one. "I'm twelve! You've missed twelve years of my life – twelve birthdays! And now you think you can just make it up to me?!" he stood up. His voice grew louder, so did the anger, pain and deep resentment growing in him. All of that of which he kept locked within for so long. "I don't need you! I don't want you to be here! Maybe back then I did! When I was five! When I thought you were a good guy! Then I found out that you left because of me! ME! You left because of me! You couldn't deal with becoming a dad! You never wanted me! You don't love me! And now you're here all of the sudden?! Just say it!" he yelled. John walked up to him.
"Jesse, will you listen to me?!" he said, trying to top his son's voice.
"No! Say it! Say it! Say that you left because of me! You don't love me! Say it!"
"No, I am not gonna say it!" John screamed loudly at him. "I am not gonna say it!"
"Then you're just a good-for-nothing liar, aren't ya?!" Jesse said. He turned around, and searched through his backpack.
The silence was unbearable for John. Jesse's indifference, ignorance, anger and hate was killing him. He understood all these feelings, and they made him find himself as a complete jackass. He grew up without a dad. His dad was an ass to him. Never around. Drunk. Missing. With anger in his slurred words. And he'd promised himself a long time ago never to do that to his own kid. But no. He ended up doing the same thing. He left. Plus he made it as though it was Jesse's fault…which, which sadly enough, it was back then.
"Jesse…" he began as the boy straightened up.
"Get out…" Jesse said in a dead, low voice. "Please. Just. Leave."
John could see the white-knuckled clenched fists his son was displaying.
"Jesse…" he began.
"Dad. Please. Not tonight. It's too much. Just. Go. I'm tired."
John stood there for a few minutes, doing nothing, then found himself sensing it was a lost battle. For that night, that is. He nodded.
"Okay. Good night. Sleep well."
He turned, and left, shutting the door. From just outside, he heard a thud as something dropped onto the bed, and a few more as punches darted the pillow. Then, which struck him, extremely loud music, muffled enough to tell him they were coming from headphones. He nearly knocked on the door to stop the kid, but then refrained, turning around, and walking down the stairs. He turned into the kitchen, and smiled slightly at the form of Marie.
Her back was turned to him, as she was standing on her tip-toes, her shirt raising slightly, placing plates into the cabinet. She was beautiful. She was always beautiful. He smirked slightly, then it faded away as the torturous feeling of the pain he caused her filled him within.
"Hey," he said softly. She stopped what she was doing and turned to him.
"Hey," she said simply. She tried to smile at him genuinely, but it faltered, so she just smiled a little. "How'd…how'd it go?" she asked, tucking a strand behind her ear.
"He hates me," John sighed.
"Can you expect him not to?" she asked. She walked past him, and he followed her to the door. "You left because of him."
"But now I'm back," he said, softly once more. He was so close to her. She could even feel his body heat. Damn. He was too close. John looked up a little. "I'm back. I'm trying to fix things. With both of you." Then he looked into her brown eyes. She leaned forward. He leaned forward. He kissed her, trying to feed on that kiss and make it grow. Then she backed off.
"No. No, John. We can't. We can't," she said, looking confused at how that just happened. "After what you did…" she murmured on.
Then she took a step back, and he found the tension quite discomforting. There was an excess of it. And excess of this. Discomfort. He found his hands in his pockets, and could feel that he looked how he felt. Uncomfortable. Miserable.
"Rogue…"
"Just go…please, John? Come tomorrow or something…his birthday's in…in three days," she said, still looking confused.
No. He wasn't going to take this. He'd already gotten that line from his son. He wouldn't take it from the woman he loved. He sighed however, and then came closer to her.
"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. She could hear it in his voice, see it in his face, see in it his eyes, in his expression. She could feel it instantly.
"I know…" Marie replied slowly. She looked as troubled as her. "But…I can't, John. I can't do this. I can't. I can't forgive you. Not yet." She folded her arms. "I can't."
"Can't or won't?" he snapped. Then he shook his head. "Sorry. I didn't mean that. I just…I'll go. Can I come tomorrow?"
"Yeah," Marie nodded. "Sure. Jesse's gonna be here. I'll be here too. Day-off." He concurred, and took a step forward.
"Good-night," he said softly, kissing her on the head.
She let him, staring at the ground, her eyes going teary at the feeling of his lips. Oh, damn, she wanted this. She wanted him. But no. She couldn't. But, damn, she wanted him. Needed him. It hurt just not being able to hug him. To kiss him. To tell him. But no. No.
Then he backed away, and turned around, leaving. He shut the door. She headed up the stairs, taking deep breaths to calm the tears.
…Six years ago…
"Mommy," Jesse said, looking at her from the rear view mirror. She was driving him to school.
"Yeah, honey?" she asked, keeping her eyes on the road.
"Do you…" Jesse asked quietly, looking outside the window. "Did you…" he then said, changing his question. "Did you love dad?"
Marie blinked for a moment at his words. Did you love dad? She knew the answer. She and John fell in love in two weeks. Entirely in love. He appeared at her window and from then on, it was just that. There was no explanation needed, for she couldn't explain how that had happened. It just did.
"Yeah, honey. I did." She kept her eyes on the road as much as she could, finding them falling out of concentration as the pain struck her inside. He left…he left us…
It was quiet for a minute or so, then Jesse spoke up once more.
"Do you love dad?"
Love? As in…till now? Marie blinked once more, but this time to stop the tears. He left us…how could he leave us…why…
But it didn't matter. She knew that answer as well. She knew what she felt and that lying wouldn't change her mind.
"Yeah, honey, I do."
A/N: Review, please? Thanks also to those who have reviewed so far.