A/N: In a long-standing tradition of indecision and bowing to my readers' preferences ;) I've decided to continue this. In another long-standing tradition, or what is rapidly becoming a long standing tradition, it will not be in chronological order. Because writers are allowed to be wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey. So, here's more.
Chapter 2 - Like The Hulk and Doc Ock
Earlier...
Since Oliver had been born, despite the natural complete upheaval of any normal sleep schedule, despite the blessed wonder and joy of this beautiful, tiny miracle, and despite the inherent craziness of diapers and spit-ups and feeding and dressing and the million other tiny things that make up infant care, both Jess and Rory had been making a concerted effort to spend time one-on-one with Jessica; also to include her in everything possible that had to do with the new baby, but mostly to make her feel that she hadn't lost anything in terms of preciousness to both her parents.
Sibling rivalry might be something inevitable. Then again, with such a significant age difference, maybe it wasn't. In any case, they didn't want Jessica to have any legitimate reason to feel insecure. They'd talked to her a lot ahead of time to make sure that she knew how much she was loved and valued, and that this baby's presence didn't change that.
In spite of all their best efforts, there was something definitely wrong…
She loved baby Oliver. There didn't seem to be any trouble in that regard. But she'd been rebuffing Rory's affection. Jess knew it hurt Rory. She'd never done it before. Even when Jess and Rory were newlyweds, she loved her new mother dearly. There had been a rash of uncharacteristic misbehavior at that point which they had to sort through and get to the root of, but none of it had been directed at Rory. This was new…and troubling.
It started off merely as…kind of ducking Rory's hugs, stiffening at her kisses. But, it had gotten worse. She was avoiding Rory altogether, and when Rory tried to talk to her, she was giving her the cold shoulder and refusing to speak; and in just everyday things, when Rory tried to give her any kind of direction, she would do as told icily or with snappish remarks, or would pretend she hadn't heard what Rory told her at all.
Jess had tried to talk to her multiple times when Rory had already tried and failed, and although she didn't treat him the way she'd been treating Rory, she still wouldn't open up to him and tell him what was wrong.
Even though the attitude she was showing Rory wasn't one he would normally put up with, he was hesitant to discipline her for it in any way, because he was almost certain there was an underlying emotional issue, and he wasn't sure how to find out what it was, or what was the best way to deal with it. So, he just kept seeking opportunities to talk to her, trying different angles…but, he seemed to be getting no place.
He didn't want to assume that it would pass, or ignore it and let whatever was bothering her fester, but there didn't seem to be a whole lot he could do. In the end, he figured that maybe at some point it would come to a head; and maybe that would make it possible to deal with. He wasn't looking forward to whatever that would look like.
If getting progressively worse was the process of coming to a head, the morning of the day Truncheon was scheduled to start boxing up before the remodel, things definitely seemed to be coming to a head. It was a school holiday and Rory was still off on maternity leave, so Rory had suggested they all come to Truncheon and pitch in. She and Jess could take turns with the backpack baby carrier, and Jess wouldn't be stuck doing most of the boxing by himself; since Matt had a morning doctor's appointment and Chris had back-to-back meetings most of the day.
At breakfast, Jessica was silent and didn't eat. She shoved her food around the plate so it looked partially eaten and when everyone else was done eating she scraped the "remainder" into the trash. After repeated urgings to get dressed, she still sat, unmoving in the corner of her room with her face buried in a book. When Rory started panicking about the time and trying to urge her along, she replied stubbornly, "I don't wanna go," which left Rory flummoxed. She always wanted to go to her dad's bookstore, even when it was completely impractical to go there.
"Well, we are all going, and you are not going in your pajamas," Rory told her, but Jessica just settled back further into the corner, holding her book high and close so that it covered her face. Rory left the room with a ragged groan of pure frustration, putting her clawed hands to the sides of her face.
Jess had been dressing Oliver at that moment, and Rory came up to him, saying abruptly, "I'll finish up with Oliver. You deal with Jessica!" He stood up with and puffed out a sigh, going into no nonsense mode.
His daughter's eyes were staring at the page without moving across it, so she was clearly stewing about something without taking in the words on the page in front of her. "You're not reading," he stated plainly, called her bluff. "We are leaving in ten minutes. Put the book down. Take your pajamas off. Put your clothes on. Unless you want me to put your clothes on for you like I just did with Oliver." She put down the book and grabbed the shirt Rory had placed next to her. "Thank you."
When he went back across the hall, Rory was filling the diaper bag, and shook her head. "At least she'll listen to you," she sighed out.
"This is not okay," Jess muttered, strapping Oliver into the hybrid child-carrier/car seat.
"I am very well aware of that fact." Rory pursed her lips, struggling to get the zipper closed with eyebrows worried into tired lines. Neither of them had slept much the night before, and that wasn't helping things.
Jess sighed out some of the tension and rubbed his hand up and down on Rory's back for a moment before the stubborn zipper broke off in Rory's hand. She flung the unmanageable thing onto the bed and put her fist to her mouth to keep from crying.
"Come here," Jess said softly, attempting to usher her into his arms, which she half accepted before pushing back with a quick breath and a voice that almost cracked with suppressed tears. As she spoke, her eyes widened and a look of desperation covered her face.
"No, Jess, we don't have time! You've gotta open up, and I've got to find something to use for a diaper bag, and we've got to plan for at least two more stubborn I'm-going-to-pretend-I'm-not-listening-to-you Jessica delays, and we are going to be late!"
He drew her to him once more, saying tenderly, "If Truncheon opens late, Truncheon opens late. Come on, just for a second." With the soft breath she released, he could feel her muscles soften a little in his embrace.
"I don't like being late," she sniffled.
"I know," he cooed, wrapping his arm around her so that it cradled her waist. "Thirty seconds won't make us late."
"You said one," she pouted.
"Shh." He lifted her chin with his forefinger, and pressed his lips to hers. "It takes at least thirty for a proper kiss," he said, letting one kiss melt into another.
He felt her lips curl into a smile. "It does not," she laughed.
"That depends on how you define a proper kiss," he said, showing her exactly how he defined one, and felt her dissolve fully into his arms. "Now, we can go."
"Says you," she replied, voice still soft from the kiss. "I still need to find something else to use as a diaper bag."
"You got a safety pin?" he asked, curling his shoulders to stretch his spine.
"Too small," she joked.
"No, I mean to…" he smirked and rolled his eyes, gesturing to the zipper minus the broken-off pull-tab.
"Oh, thaaaat's what you meant," she teased, leaning past him to a tin on the dresser, retrieving a safety pin. "By the way, that's were I keep them." She nodded and stuck out her lower lip. "In case you ever need to know."
He nodded and raised his eyebrows to acknowledge the statement as he took the safety pin from her to attach the makeshift zipper pull. "Now, we can go," he repeated, gesturing to the mickey-moused diaper bag and properly secured infant.
"No, Jessica's not ready yet," Rory reminded him, the tension buzzing in her voice.
"Fireman's carry, if necessary," he smirked, only half joking.
When they got to Truncheon, Jess hoped things would be more copasetic. Working with books was something that agreed with all three of them, so that boded well, at least. They were starting with Chris and Matt's personal collection upstairs before they began on the shelved stock. Matt had recently made a huge Friends of the Library haul and none of them had been sorted yet. They were just in random, tumbling stacks. So, once Oliver had been secured to Rory's back - since Jess was liable to be navigating the stairs if customers came - they pulled out the empty, broken-down boxes and assembled them. That finished, they were about to start sorting through and organizing the stacks before putting them away, when the bell above the door chimed and Jess popped downstairs to see to the new arrival.
It was an older gentleman in a once-crumpled felt hat and brown argyle sweater who had happened upon Truncheon and popped in to browse. Jess let him know he'd be there if he needed anything, and busied himself at the desk where he wouldn't encroach upon his customer's browsing.
After a few moments, he could hear wafting from above the murmur of his wife's voice, tinged with impatience, and his daughter's, colored with sarcasm. He cringed, scratching at the side of his face as he wished he'd paid more attention to whether the man who entered was wearing any sort of a hearing aid. That would be nice.
It went quiet again, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
"Do you carry any books by…oh, dear, what was the name? Strothelmeyer…or Strom…Stro? Gracious, I've forgotten," Jess pulled himself from his own thoughts several minutes later to turn his attention to the man's inquiry.
"Um…do you maybe know the first name? Or the title of one of their books?" he asked, waking up the laptop on the desk and doing a quick amazon search for S-T-R-O. "Stroustrup, maybe?" he suggested. The books by Stroustrup were on computer programming, so it seemed doubtful, but that seemed to be the only author that… wait, no. There was one more. "Or maybe, Strout? Elizabeth Strout?"
"That's it!" the man replied, grinning.
Jess was pleased he could help with the name at least. "I'm sorry, though. I'm afraid we don't happen to stock any of her titles."
"Oh, I see," the man said, disappointed, and Jess started to hear again, the voices from above, louder this time. "I wish I'd-" The man stopped, glancing upward.
"Were you looking for yourself, or for someone else?" Jess asked, raising his voice to mask the steadily raising volume from up the stairs. "Her books seem to be geared toward teenage girls," he fudged, having glanced briefly at only one description, "so were you maybe looking for a gift, something that would-"
"Jessica, stop!"
He raised his voice louder. "-that would-"
A book came flying over the railing and landed with a dull thud only a yard or so from the man's feet, Jess' eyes widening, horrified.
"Excuse me!" he interjected abruptly, rounding the counter and putting a hand on the man's shoulder as he hurried past, to make certain he didn't knock the man over after he could have easily been brained by soaring books. He didn't quite hear the man's dazed response as he sprinted for the stairs, Jessica's voice, a barrage of screamed incoherent defiance. He cleared three steps at a time, and made out "stupid books!" and "ridiculous!" before another book came sailing through the air, its corner grazing his ear.
Reaching the top of the steps, he saw a rabid wildcat disguised as his little girl, red-faced, snarling, spitting and hurling books at Rory as fast as she could pick them up. Rory held a large volume in front of her as a shield and backed toward a corner so Oliver would be protected on all sides. Fortunately, in her frenzy, Jessica had an extraordinarily bad aim.
"…'cause everything has to be PERFECT! Everything has to be JUST RIGHT! What if ONCE, just ONCE…"
"What is-? Stop! -DON'T!" Jess shouted, words tumbling out of his mouth and getting totally lost amidst Jessica's screaming. He tried first to confiscate the ammo, but the books slid past his fingers before he could grip them. He tried to block her whirlwind of fury and got pummeled and scratched for his troubles. Eventually, all he could do was wrap himself around her, cocooning the tiny Tasmanian devil until she could no longer spin destructively out of control. That accomplished, he managed to clap a hand over her mouth to stop the screaming and all but ignore the teeth scraping his palm, trying to find something to bite down on.
He flashed Rory an incredulous look, as if to ask whether his Jessica had been blasted by a gamma bomb, or exposed to a radiation leak that fused mechanical arms to her body and brain. Rory mirrored the look of incredulity, shaking her head; and Jess smiled wanly and helplessly at her from his position as human containment field, then nodded his head toward the stairs, signaling her to go down and see to the customer he'd abandoned. She heaved a dazed sigh and started downstairs.
Jess ushered the fuming, thrashing girl into the next room, closing the door behind them with his shoulder. When he released her from the protective strait-jacket embrace, she whirled around, flailing in the same violent sort of frenzy she'd worked herself into before he grabbed hold of her in the other room. He held her off lightly with one hand, but her fist jabbed out and caught him in the lower bicep, much harder than he would have anticipated.
"Ow!" he exclaimed, clutching the bicep with his other hand, and fixing her with a glare. "That's enough!" Jess warned, a flash like reflected steel in his eyes. Her frenzy halted but she still stood there breathing fire. "What is going on?" he demanded.
"I HATE her! She is NOT my mom! And I DON'T have to do anything she says!" Jessica screamed, venomously. Jess' eyebrows raised and the glare turned to a searching look. The little girl was trembling with rage, and Jess knew in his gut that she'd have to dissolve into tears before there would be any reasoning with her.
"Are you done?" he asked, calmly. Defiance blazed from her eyes as they snapped into a glare, but she was silent. The sadness in Jess' eyes doused the flame, and it subsided a little. "Turn around," he directed, very quietly.
"What?" she asked with confusion, her voice taking on his quiet.
"You're about to be spanked." His voice was hushed, calm, but resolute. "Turn around." Jessica's lower lip trembled, and she bit it. She looked nearly ready to rebel against this, but seemed to think better of it - her head slunk down, and she turned. Jess held her with his left forearm across her shoulders, bracing her up, and with his right hand, rapidly delivered three sharp smacks, calculated to produce just a tiny wince even through blue jeans. The first two prompted a tiny "ow!" and with the last smack, just harder than the others, the dam burst, and she turned and buried her face in her dad's chest, bawling wildly.
No matter how much he told himself that he did this because he loved her, making her cry never hurt any less. Stricter parents might say she should have been punished sooner or more severely, others would likely call him a monster and be ready to string him up for the way he had punished her, but this hadn't been about "punishment to fit the crime." It was a catalyst, a deliberate straw to break the camel's back - letting her release the pent up pain and anger she'd been spewing out in every direction in a way that was non-destructive, giving her an excuse to cry it all out...wash it all away. He let her cry as long as she needed to, hoping her tears would soften her heart and help it to start healing. The comfort of tears had been denied him so long that maybe he over-valued their restorative properties, but he knew his little girl, and had many times seen that the sun shone the brightest from her eyes after a fall of rain.
It took a long time for her sobbing to subside into silent gasps every few seconds, then soft sniffling. He continued to hold her gently, and spoke softly, but firmly.
"You can't act like that, and you can't talk like that, Jessica. I won't allow it." At this, the little girl stiffened slightly, and pulled herself out of his embrace, beginning to bridle in indignation, but before she could get stirred up further, he continued. "Now, you can get mad at Rory for telling you what to do, and you get can get mad at me for spanking you - but you cannot lash out in a way that could seriously hurt somebody, and you cannot talk with that kind of disrespect." He looked at her, levelly. "Now, I know, you have another mom. I have never said a word against her to you, and I don't intend to. And, I can't force you to think of Rory as your mom. I don't want to try to do that." Jess rubbed the back of his hand against his lips, looking down at his wedding ring as he did so. "But, from the moment Rory met you…she's been here for you, and she's loved you, and taken care of you the best way she knows how - and that deserves respect." He sighed and looked at Jessica tight-lipped before starting to speak again. "If she heard what you said when you first came in here…it would break her heart." At this, Jessica looked at the floor, and two tears landed there in quick succession. "She doesn't deserve that." These last words were almost a whisper.
"Now, considering the way you behaved out there," his eyes darting toward the door, "and then in here…three swats was actually letting you off pretty easy. As a matter of fact, if you ever throw things at her or your baby brother again, I will personally light a fire to your butt with my bare hand," he said pointedly, fixing her with a keen look that made her eyes dart to the floor again. "But, for right now," he said, in a softer tone, "letting you off easy is exactly what I'm gonna to do. What you're going to do…is, first off, let yourself calm down…then you will go out there and apologize…you will clean up the mess you made…and you'll be respectful and obedient."
His quiet tone of authority, and deliberate, direct logic seemed to allow Jessica to center herself. She looked into Jess' eyes for a moment, mutely communicating acceptance, and then looked at the floor, drawing in and releasing several deep, cleansing breaths. She turned toward the door purposefully and took two steps forward before faltering. Her breath hitched in her chest, and she turned and looked back at Jess, suddenly looking wounded. The look caught Jess in the stomach. She choked on a sob, and Jess rushed forward to catch her as she collapsed, wretchedly weeping, into his arms. Her sobs before had seemed to be a release…a relief, even. This fresh outburst had an edge of desperation and despair. He hadn't seen this wave coming - and it scared him.
He led her to the wall, slowly sinking down to sit on the floor, snatched a blessedly nearby pillow, and eased her down to lie with her head on the pillow in his lap - one arm cradling her head while the fingers of his other hand combed through her hair, soothingly. She'd been crying like this for over three minutes, her sobs turning to frantic gasps. He'd been dulcetly urging her to …hush now…shhh... and telling her ...I've got you...you're safe...I love you and I'm not letting go...I'm right here... rocking her slowly back and forth, but her tears and her sobs just kept coming.
"What is it, little girl?" he whispered, tenderly. "What is it?…What's wrong?" Her sobs turned to a pathetic whimpering that tore at his heart even more. "Jessie…talk to me!" he pleaded.
In a voice so quiet and full of tears he could hardly make out the words, she answered, "I…want…my…mom." He groaned inwardly, bowing his head. Of course that's where this is coming from. How could I not have seen that? It was staring me right in the face. He silently kept on stroking her hair, alternately rubbing her shoulders - doing everything in his dad repertoire of actions that had ever been successful in comforting his little one, but she just whimpered brokenly, curling in on herself, muscles tightening desperately as if trying to hold, and squelch, and control the pain. He of all people should understand what she was going through. His mind flashed back to nights he'd tried to forget - nights that he'd lain on his bed when he was still a very little boy, silent tears streaming down and soaking his pillow - tears for the dad he never knew - the dad who had to be better than all the creeps and bullies Liz brought home - the dad that never came back. Of course, no matter what, there would come a day when Jessica would want her mom. Today was that day.
"Do you remember her?" he asked softly, looking down into his daughter's big brown eyes, swimming in tears. She bit her lip, sniffling raggedly as her tears continued to stream down, pooling uncomfortably in her ears.
Finally, her voice came out in a strained whisper, "I don't know." She sounded so lost and so frightened. Jess bent as far as his back would allow, hugging her to him. He kissed her hair, and gazed at her, pain in his eyes. "What's she like?" she whispered. He smiled wanly at her, brushing away one tear, and the next, and the next.
"She has a smile just like yours," he told her, tracing her lips with his thumb, "with the same pretty, pink lips…and she used to laugh all the time." He nodded, pressing his lips together. "Her eyes are big and round and beautiful, like yours, but they're blue…and yours usually look happier." He took a breath, playing with her curls. "Her hair is curly, like yours, but blonde…and she always kept it cut short-right around her chin," and he gestured toward his own jaw line, demonstrating the length. "She liked to draw like you do." He smiled at her, fingering the spot on Jessica's smile line where her dimple appeared when she was happier. He loved that little spot. That secret precious place that only revealed itself in her happiness. He was missing it now. "She liked rock music-always sang along with the radio in the car when her favorite songs came on-always said someday she wanted to start a rock band." Jess scrounged around his brain, trying to remember other nice things he could tell her about Shane. He knew there must be some. She always brought up the rock band when she'd had too much to drink. She'd sing anytime, but when she was drunk, she was always going to start a rock band. Something nice. Something you can tell a kid. "She liked to wear cherry-red lipstick." He nodded. It left bright red lip prints on all her cigarettes. "She was really pretty." Sexy bombshell - Marilyn Monroe type. That would be okay to tell her when she was older…bombshell…leave out the sexy part. He knew he needed to stop now. He couldn't follow this train of thought any further without getting into her emotional problems, her selfishness, and the nastier things he hoped his little girl would never find out about her mother.
"Why did you take me away from her?" she asked tearfully. Jess stayed quiet for several long moments, trying not to betray the knife sticking out of his heart. It was a natural question - an innocent question.
"Well…" he began carefully, "when I found out that I had a little girl, I knew that I was gonna love you. So, when your mom asked me if I would come get you, and bring you home with me, and take care of you - I was just so happy that I got to keep you, and be with you. I was so glad that I got the chance to love my little girl! Maybe I was a little selfish, wanting you all for myself - but, she said it was okay." He crafted the words carefully, wanting Jessica to hear only how much she was loved and wanted, while telling nothing but the truth. But the little girl only seemed to hear one thing.
"Why didn't she want me?" she choked, and the tears spilled faster and faster. He wiped them gently, a lump in his throat, heart breaking for his little girl.
"I don't know, Jessie…" his voice caressed, "I honestly don't know." His thumb swept along the slopes of her face. He knew them all by heart…every beautiful inch. "I don't know how anyone could not want you."
Her eyes shut tight, and she burrowed her face in his abdomen, shaking with silent shivering sobs. Jess sighed brokenly, his right arm around her shoulders, squeezing her tight, while he inhaled sharply through his nose and brought his left wrist up to his lips, choking back emotion. After a minute or so, Jessica drew her face back, containing her sobs, and looked up at him.
"Daddy?" her lips and chin quivered uncontrollably. He nodded encouragingly for her to continue, unable to find his voice. "I want…" she choked on the tears. "I want…" and she broke down again.
"You want your mom," he finished for her, gently, cradling her chin in his hand. "And that's okay," he assured her. "It's okay to want your mom." She cried harder, but he could feel that there was some relief in these tears. She had permission to feel what she was feeling. "It doesn't mean you love me any less. It doesn't mean that you love Rory any less, either." Fresh waves of sobbing came with each sentence. "You have a right to need your mom!" His voice caught, and it was agonizing to continue. "You have a right to be angry at me for taking you away from her!" His breathing was jagged. "And you have a right to be angry at her for letting you go!" He realized he needed to keep going. "You have a right to be angry at Rory for trying to take her place in your heart!" There was more. "You have a right to be angry at baby Oliver for having his mom and his dad!" She had to know this. Jess still hated himself for the part of his heart that couldn't help hating his little sister. "You - have - a - right - to - FEEL - ANYTHING - and - EVERYTHING - that you feel!" This was when Jessica pulled herself up, and half-sitting wrapped her arms around Jess' waist, squeezing with every ounce of strength she had, sobbing…and sobbing…louder, and more wildly…not trying to hold it in any more. He wrapped his arms around her head, kissing her hair and choking on a few dry sobs himself. "That's right…." he soothed, giving her the strong arms she needed around her to make her feel secure, rubbing his hand in comforting circles on her back, "…let it alllll out….every last drop…just let it flow through you…and right on out." He rocked gently back and forth, taking long slow deep breaths, until her ragged, shuddering, but now voiceless sobs were following them IN…OUT…IN…OUT… "Breathe…" he told her softly, "…you can do it…in through your nose," inhaling, "out through your mouth," exhaling - and he kept modeling the deep breaths for her, until her gasps and hitched sobs slowly melted away.
Understandably, her whole body was limp in his arms. Jess shifted her, so one arm was under her neck and shoulders, and the other under her knees. His head bent over her, sheltering. He kissed her eyelids, each in turn. Slowly he started to stand, bracing himself against the wall, lifting her with him. Once standing, he shifted her again, slowly maneuvering until her head lolled on his left shoulder, and he could take all of her weight with his left arm. He opened the door, walking softly out into the common area. Rory was back, anxious, wide eyes filled with hurt for the little one she'd heard crying and wailing so brokenly for so long. Jess' eyes sought Rory's, and he pressed one finger to his lips, then put his hand on Rory's shoulder, squeezing reassuringly.
He took his daughter over to the small couch, signaling Rory with his eyes, he laid her down gently as Rory supplied pillows and blankets to tuck around her like a nest. He nodded toward the little girl, and Rory sat on the floor by Jessica's side, caressing her hair and her face, as Jess went to fill a water glass, and dampen a washcloth with warm, soothing water. He handed the washcloth to Rory and set the glass of water on the coffee table. He pulled over one of the kitchen chairs and took a seat. He watched as Rory wiped the little girl's face with the warm cloth, eliciting a moan of contentment as she leaned into the warmth.
"Can you lift your head up to drink this, Sweetheart?" Rory asked, her voice quiet and sweet. Jessica's eyes sprung open with a little start, realizing it was Rory beside her. She thought it was still her dad. Guilt-ridden tears sprung to her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Mom," the little girl whimpered, her lip beginning to quiver again.
"Shhh…" Rory soothed, shaking her head, and cupping the little girl's cheek in her hand, "…no…no…" she said softly, "we're fine," she reassured her, looking intently into the little girl's eyes, her own filled to the brim with mother-love, quick to heal the breach, "just fine." Rory bent down and kissed Jessica softly, reached up and tucked an unruly curl behind her ear, and brought her forehead to rest against hers, biting her lip and smiling a very small smile. "I love you for a thousand forevers," Rory whispered, eyes locked to Jessica's gaze, "no matter what!" She backed up about a foot, "Clear?" she asked touching the tip of the little girl's nose with a playful forefinger. Jessica nodded. "Good," she said, tapping the nose with her finger, while crinkling her own. Rory took the washcloth and gently bathed the reddened streaks where tears had stung the little girl's cheeks.
Jessica looked up at Rory, her jaw working back and forth as she rubbed her lips together in hesitation. Finally, quietly, with her eyes again down along the lines of the blankets she'd been nested in, she said, "I love you too, Mom."
A/N: Don't forget to tell me what you think. It makes the "more story" happen. :)