A/N: Hello there. I'll start this chapter by saying what I said last chapter. Read this thing I wrote. If you want. If not, I get it. But you're missing out. I think you are. I'll shut up now.
WARNING: There is no depiction of abuse in this chapter. However, there is a lengthy discussion or two about it. Read at your own discretion.
Enjoy it, fam.
She's scaring the crap out of me. Like she is seriously scaring me. They way she she's acting… it's making me question who she is deep down inside. Like, is she really this huge ball of happiness everyone knows her to be?
In the past, Cat always had her moments. And by moments, I mean that she always had a day or two every now and then when she wouldn't say a word. She'd barely eat. She used to lay her head on her desk at school. She'd give one word answers to text messages. She used to wear sweatpants and hoodies.
This is all too familiar.
There is something eating at her on the inside, and it's going to drive her crazy if she doesn't talk about it. And it seems like I'm the only one she's even thought about telling. But what sucks is that I'm not exactly in the most ideal position to take all of this load that she's about to drop on me.
It's not like I don't want to listen, because she's listened to all of my problems. I mean, it's the least I can do. I just don't want to get pushed off the edge because I tried to bite off more than I can chew.
Currently, she's biting her lip. It's a sign of stress. She's also twiddling her thumbs. Again, a sign of stress. I'll be glad when Cat gets this out in the open, because I'm ready to have the old Cat back. Or what I know to be Cat. This could've always been her; she could've just always been hiding it from everyone by acting the way she does.
"Alright, Cat. Talk to me." I say with a soft tone. I scoot close to her and grab her hand, just as she did for me when I was talking about my dream for the first time.
I can tell she wants to stall, but she knows she can't. She takes that deep breath she has taken so many times throughout the last few weeks.
"Okay… so has it seemed like something has been bothering me since we started getting close again? Like have I been acting different?"
She is so stalling.
"Yes, Cat. You've been acting completely different. Why are you tip toeing around this issue?" I answer with a bored tone. She nods.
"Okay… and to make sure we're on the same page… you recall how I said I understand everything you're going through?" She asks.
"Yes." I say. "I remember. How, exactly, do you identify with this situation?"
"Hey, is there any… any way I could get a cup of coffee before we get into this?" She asks. Good God let's get this rolling.
"No. Talk."
The fact that she's hiding this from me like this is crazy. Something serious must've happened when she was younger. I just don't know what. She seemed so happy in High School. Even when she had those bad days, she still seemed to be a happy person. I just don't understand.
"Tori… when I was little, I was beaten."
Jesus. I had no idea. She never told me.
"Why didn't I ever know about this?" My jaw feels like it's on the ground. I never had a clue.
She shrugs and lowers her head. She takes a deep breath and puts her chin in the palm of her hand. She looks up at me with a tear in her right eye. She wipes it away and forces a smile.
Waving her hands around, trying to make it seem like it's not a big deal, she says, "Tori, it's not that big of a deal, really. I just told you so you knew someone understood. I didn't want to go into a big discussion about it."
"Well that's too bad." I say. "Because we're having one. Cat, you just can't bring something like this up and then try to drop it. Ask yourself this; would you have let me drop the subject of my dreams if I tried? Because I know for a fact you wouldn't."
Her forced smile has long-since disappeared. Her face is flush, her eyes are red, and her breathing has become a bit more strained and deep.
"No, I wouldn't. You're right." She says, quietly.
"So please, talk to me. I don't want you to live with this inside anymore. I know you. And I feel like I know how much it's eating you up inside. So talk to me." My grip tightens on her hand, as does hers.
"Alright, I'll talk." She chokes out.
I smile… kind of.
"So… my first question… why didn't I know about this? As good of friends as we were in high school, why didn't you tell me about this?" I ask.
Again, she shrugs and lowers her head. "I don't know." She says. "I just always figured that other people's problems were bigger than mine. Like… my problems didn't matter, I guess."
That's like a big punch in the stomach. The fact that she kept everything inside for all this time feels like someone stabbed me with a knife and twisted it. This is unbelievable.
I turn away briefly to compose myself, and then I turn back to Cat. I put my free hand on her shoulder, doing my best to comfort her.
"Look, I know you're a good person. And I know you put others before yourself. But this, Cat… this was one of those times where you needed to tell someone. The fact that you were abused as a little girl is serious. You're not supposed to go through that when you're little."
"Who said I was little?" Her words, again, feel like knives twisting in my gut.
"You… I… what?" I stutter.
"This went on until I was fifteen years old."
"We didn't meet until we were sixteen." I say.
"And that's why you never knew. You never saw me when I was going through it; when it was really bad, you know? You never got to see just how emotionally compromised I became. And honestly, I'm really glad you didn't. It wasn't pretty… to say the very least."
At this point, I'm not worried about my composure. Screw that. I'm worried about my friend.
"And as long as I'm being honest, it was by design not to tell you. I made sure the gang didn't say a word to you. I just couldn't let them."
"Wait." I say. "So I'm the only one that doesn't- or didn't- know about you and what you've been through? Why?"
"Because you care about me the most. And I knew you'd react like this when the time to tell you came." She says. "But Tori, you have to realize that I'm okay. As soon as we get all this with your situation taken care of, I'll be okay. Honestly, I learned to live with it. I mean, it's not like I never think about it. I can't just block fifteen years of my life out. But I promise… I'll be okay."
"Cat, I know you'll be okay. I know this. But the fact that you were hurting and I didn't know… that hurts my heart. That literally hurts my very soul because you were hurting and there was no way I could've stopped it. Because I didn't know."
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I just didn't know how you'd handle it. I didn't know if you'd go talk to my dad and…"
"So it was your dad, too." I say.
She nods her head.
With that, we sit in silence. I didn't bother to ask her to go into detail about it. I didn't know how she viewed it. I didn't know how comfortable she was with talking about it. I think it's best that I don't because I know if I was telling someone I was beaten by my dad, I know I wouldn't be too excited to go into a lot of detail. So I don't push it.
"I didn't bring this up to get into a big long discussion." She says. So she isn't comfortable talking about it. "I only told you because I want you to understand that I understand what you're going through. And I also understand that I couldn't even possibly begin to fathom the amount of emotional toll that the situation with the detectives and Cheryl Tomlinson is taking on you. But everything with your dad… believe me. I more than understand."
She moves closer to me and wraps me up into a hug. I feel my eyes begin to water and a few tears fall down. I bury my head and start to sob. Because she's right. I'm under an immense amount of stress. I am facing a charge which is essentially murder. And the only reason it's not murder is because I was wasted. And if you ask me, that's what it should be. Being drunk shouldn't be an excuse to hide behind to get out of it being called murder. Because it is. I took a person's life. And I have to live with that forever.
I'm crying so hard that I'm almost hyperventilating. Cat starts to rub the back of my head while holding me tighter. I can't imagine where I'd be without her right now. Her being by my side through this is going to be key.
She pushes me back a little and looks me in the eye; my red and watery eyes. She brushes away a tear running down my face with a smile.
"Cheekbones as pretty as yours don't deserve to have tears on them. They deserve to be shown off with that smile of yours." Her words have always made me feel better even at my worst. "Can I see one of them?"
"One of… what?" I sniff.
"Just one of those world class smiles is all." She smiles again. "Is there any way I can see one?"
Cat is the only person I know who continues to try to make you smile when you clearly don't want to. But nevertheless, she keeps going. And damn it, every single time she tries to force one out of me, she gets one. This time was no exception. It's not a good one. But she gets what she wants.
"There it is." She smiles. God does she ever not smile? I'm starting to think it's an actual sickness she has. She's talking about something that was traumatic when she was a little girl and possibly later and she's smiling. She is literally smiling ear to ear.
It bugs me, secretly. If you ask me why, I probably won't be able to tell you. It just does. Maybe I'm a little jealous because I can't feel that. I can't just plaster a smile on my face when my life has turned to shit. But apparently she can.
"Cat, can I ask you a question?" I ask with a sniff and a croak.
"Of course. What's up?"
"How do you do it?"
"Wait, how do I do what?" She cocks her head to the side and gives me a confused look.
"I mean… like… how do you stay happy all the time?" I ask again. I really don't have an easier way to ask it.
"You mean how do I stay happy when I'm stressed out?"
"Yeah. Kinda. Like how do you deal with your own issues while taking on other people's problems too? And again, the most astonishing thing is how you stay so positive."
"That's the thing. I don't deal with my problems. Other people come first to me, for some reason. And… as for the positivity thing… I have to be because everyone is negative around me." I guess that includes me, too. "If other people are negative and I'm negative, who is left to be positive? The sun in the sky?"
"Even the sun doesn't come out every now and then. The sun isn't positive all the time." I argue.
"But behind the clouds, what is it doing?" She asks. This part of Cat is different from the Cat we knew in high school. She's deep. She actually thinks. That's something no one ever saw. Not even Beck, and we all consider him the smartest one in the group.
I smile again. This girl has a weird effect on me. "You're right, Cat. The sun is always shining, even if we can't exactly see it. Thank you for that."
"Well, you're quite welcome, Tori." She playfully nudges me and continues with what she was saying. "What I've learned to think about is like… like when clouds are blocking the sun and it's raining real bad… I just think of each rain drop as one less problem I have to deal with. And then after it's through raining, the sun comes out. And then the positivity starts shining again."
This is unbelievable. Thank you, God, for putting her back in my life. I don't know what I'd do without her.
"I believe that when the sun is looking down at the earth and he sees clouds roll in, he thinks, 'Okay, these are going to go away soon. So I have to put on my best and brightest face for when they do.' You just have to look at adversity from different perspectives."
I'm astonished. That is all.
"Cat, I never knew you had this side of you. This… deep thinker that comes out just when you need it to." I say.
"I've grown up, Tori. I'm not just a little red-headed, ditzy girl that I used to be in High School. I have real thoughts now. I have a life and a career that's actually turning out to benefit me. Sure, I'm not an actress on Broadway like I wanted to be, but this life I'm living is fantastic. There have been quite a few negative things happen to me in my life. But now, I'm actually starting to experience the positive part of life and the joyous part of being here in the situation I'm in." She says, finally taking a break from speaking. However, I sit there waiting for her to start again. And what does she do?
"I think of life like a game of Black Jack." She starts talking again, of course. Not that it's a bad thing, anyway.
"A game of Black Jack? How does that relate to life?" I ask, genuinely confused. I'm anxious to hear this.
"In Black Jack, you get dealt however many cards you want. You start out with two cards and then you have the option to ask for more or stay where you're at. When you stay where you're at, that's a little something I call settling. I've learned not to settle over the years. So when I play Black Jack, I always hit. I always draw another card, hoping to get to twenty-one. And when I bust… well that's too bad. I busted. I come right back and start anteing up again. I play another hand because in life, you can't settle for anything, because someone is always there, ready to take everything away from you. The difference between success and failure in life could be one card. That's why you never settle."
Son of a bitch, she's good. I don't know where my situation plays into that.
"Cat… that was great." I say. "But how in the world does my situation fall into that scenario?"
"Because where you're at in life, you could have a king and a seven in your hands. You've got seventeen there. That's a potential winning hand. But where you're at and with the situation you're in, you can't afford to settle. You need that twenty-one. Because without it, there's always going to be the possibility that you lose. No matter what, unless you have twenty-one, you're running the risk of losing."
"I get all that, but Black Jack is a game of chance. How can I trust chance?" I ask.
"Black Jack is a game of faith; faith in what cards may come your way. And like I said, you may bust. But you cannot stop trying to get to that twenty-one."
"Gambling is dangerous, Cat. What if I mess up?"
She ponders that question for a second. Because it's a good question. You can very easily mess up when you gamble.
"Have you ever seen the movie Rounders?" She asks. Where is she going with this?
"Yeah, I've seen it. Why?"
"Well… Edward Norton fucked up really bad. He lost a bunch of money." She's proving my point. "But Matt Damon came through and saved them."
I see what she means.
"So in our situation, I'm Matt Damon and you're Ed Norton. I'll be there to save you if you ever mess up." She says.
I smile for the hundredth time. "Thank you. You're the best around, Ca…"
"MAMA'S HOME!" It's then, before I can even finish my sentence, I notice the butchy blonde known as Sam walk through the front door of Cat's apartment. She glares at me.
"Ew. There's too many happy people in this room." Sam says, rudely.
"For you information, Sam, we really aren't the happiest of people right now. There's a lot on our minds." She takes up for me just like she always does. More people should be like her.
"I guess there's a first time for everything. Happy people must get sad sometimes." She looks amazed at the fact that someone like Cat, with such an optimistic perspective of life, could possibly have a negative attitude at the moment. "How bout that." Sam walks into the kitchen.
Cat stands up and follows Sam's footsteps into the kitchen. She stands still for a moment and then starts leaning against the counter. "Hey, Sam?"
"What?" She says, harshly.
"Can Tori… maybe… stay with…"
"NO."
"But Sam, please?" Cat begs. "Tori is really going through something right now and it's really hard for both of us because we've gone through similar things. So can you please find it in your heart to let Tori stay here for a little while? Please?"
"Sam, I promise I won't be bothersome. I can find a way to get my own food. I promise I won't steal any fried chicken from your stash." I plead.
She rubs her face and runs a hand through her hair as if she's trying to talk herself out of saying no.
"You won't touch the fried chicken?" She asks.
"No."
"You won't touch the pork?"
"Hand to God." I raise my right hand.
"What about my ribs?"
"What ribs?" I ask, although I clearly know she has ribs, I say that to show her that I'll forget about them eventually and will never touch them.
She smirks a little. "Yeah, I guess you can stay here."
"Thank you so much!" I run over to her and give her a huge bear hug.
"Okay back'er down a notch there, butch." She pushes me away, but at least she knows I'm grateful for the generosity.
"Okay… I've had enough discussion for one day. I dealt with a cop pulling me over today and questioning me about some missing meat and then I came home to you guys. So I'm gonna crash."
Cat and I both wave at Sam and tell her to sleep well.
"Wake me up in two days." She says, but she stops. "If I don't wake up, put some ribs under my nose. And if that doesn't work… I guess we're shit outta luck."
She turns away and enters their bedroom. Cat and I both take a deep breath and exhale with a sigh of relief. After waiting for a few seconds, we start laughing hysterically. It's the first time in the past two weeks that either of us has really laughed like this; just a real good belly laugh.
"What are you laughing at?" I say, almost choking on laughter.
"Just how someone like Sam, who acts so tough all the time, caves just like that." She doubles over and falls onto the floor.
Honestly, I don't know what's so funny about hat just went down, but damn it, there's something there.
"And the only reason she was against it in the first place was because she thought I was going to eat her meat." Okay, so it's either it was extremely obvious that that what I just said was something that could easily be something dirty, or I have the mind of a sixth-grade boy.
"You realize what you just said, right?" She chuckles, lightly.
"Yes, I heard it." I lower my head in shame at the fact that I, and my best friend, do in all actuality, have the minds of sixth-grade boys.
After the laughing finally comes to a stop, she changes the subject to a problem that needs to be solved rather quickly.
"So sleeping arrangements." She says. "What are you thinking?"
"I guess I could…"
"You're not taking the couch. I'll sleep out here if have to." What a friend she is. After all these years. It's just amazing to me how long a friendship can last, and how strong it can remain after all these years.
"Then I don't know. What do you want to do? I mean, after all, this is your house." I say.
"We did always sleep together when we were in high school do you think you'd want to do that? It's probably about as comfortable as you're gonna get. But it's completely up to you." She says.
"That's very sweet of you to offer, Cat, but isn't your bed like… really small?"
"I don't know. Maybe a little bit. But it's not like we're huge or anything. I'm five-foot-two and you're five-five. Don't you think we'd fit?" She asks.
"Yeah, I guess we could. It'll be a sleep over, High School style."
"YAY! Tori and Cat's sleep over!" She throws her hands up in the air.
"Sounds like a porn movie's title." I mumble.
She gives me an emotionless face and looks me dead in the eye.
"Why did you have to ruin it, you little sixth-grader?" She asks.
I make a weird noise and throw my hands up in the air, as if to say, "I don't even know, man."
Cat then stands up and walks into the kitchen.
"Do you want anything to eat?" She asks.
"Whatcha got?"
Before she can answer, there's a knock on the door.
"What the hell do you want?" Emily Ross and Bernard Borland stand in the doorway.
"Ms. Valentine, we received a tip from a reliable source that Tori Vega is here. May we come in?" He asks politely.
"Before I decide, you need to tell me why you're here." She says.
"Ms. Valentine, have you been drinking tonight?"
"Will you chill out with that question? Learn some new ones, for God's sake. Take it easy, Barney Fife."
"Ross, why don't you just go wait in the car?" Borland suggests.
"But Boss…" She protests.
"That wasn't a request, Emily." He says sternly.
Cat eyes her and Cat eyes her back. I can tell that good old Agent Ross and I are going to have some problems later on down the road.
I see her break away from Cat and look back at Borland. Then she walks away.
Borland takes a deep breath and composes himself. "Is Tori Vega here?"
"You still haven't told me what you want."
"I just want to talk to her. There is going to be no arrest unless there is a confession. You have my word as a police officer and a man." He says, genuinely.
I stand up. "I'm right here. Can I help you, Agent?" Cat steps aside.
"Uh, yes. I'd just like to talk with you for a moment. Do you mind?"
I'm hesitant at first, but I make a hand gesture towards the couch. "Sit." He does so.
"Now, Ms. Vega…"
"Just… Tori. Call me Tori. I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other over the next few months.
"Yes, well… Tori… this visit's purpose is to gather information and to gain more knowledge about what you remember, since now you're well and back home."
"What do you want to know? I feel like I told you everything I know about that night. I was drunk and I hit someone. That's all there is to it." Tori, you damn liar. The dreams. The dreams. Tell him about the dreams.
He puts his hand up, telling me to relax without actually saying it.
"I understand that you're going through a lot right now. But I have one question for you and I'll get on to what I'm really here for, as long as your answer is what I expect it to be." I nod. "And as I ask this question, I must ask that you be nothing but honest with me. I don't want to waste my time on something that doesn't deserve my attention."
"Of course. What's your question?"
"I want to know if you think that there is any possibility that you weren't at fault in the accident. Do you, theoretically, that it could've been Cheryl Tomlinson's death could've been caused by herself?" He asks.
"What are you getting at?" Cat pipes up.
"I'm saying that I don't think Tori did what she's being accused of. It's just… there was no evidence of whether it was her fault or Mrs. Tomlinson's. The only thing the prosecutors have against Tori is that she was driving under the influence."
"Sir, with all due respect, it wasn't too long ago that you and your gung-ho partner out there were ready to burn me at the stake. Why the sudden change of heart?" I ask.
He rubs a hand over his sullen face. It is then that I finally notice the bags under his eyes, his slightly pale skin tone, and the light scruff on his face. He looks clearly exhausted and conflicted.
"Do you recall when Ross and I left the hospital?" Cat and I nod. "When I left, I said we had some things we needed to discuss. Now, I didn't discuss anything with Ross. I had a very long mental discussion with myself, however. I was stuck between doing my job regardless of how I felt and doing what I felt was right."
"I'm sorry." I cover my face with my hands. "My mind is going about a ninety miles an hour and I'm having trouble keeping up with it."
"I just need to know if you think there's any possibility that you didn't do what people are saying you did."
I ponder the thought for a minute. Is there really a possibility someone either framed me or that what they thought they took from the evidence wasn't really there?
"I… I guess there's always a chance." I say. "Yes, I believe that it could've not been my fault."
"Okay, so that will lead me to my next question. Are you just going to sit here and let this thing play out, or are you going to fight and prove your innocence if there is any?" He asks. That's a good ass question.
"I don't know what I can do? It's out of my hands. It's not like I can go through all the evidence, because they have none. They have nothing they can pin on me except for a DUI. So at this point, I'll probably just elect to let everything play out." I huff.
"Well don't say that yet. Do you have anyone you know on the inside of the police force?"
Shit. Dad.
"Yes, um… my father is the commissioner."
"Vega. Vega! I knew that name was familiar. David is your dad?" He asks, shocked.
"Yes, he is." I say, quietly. Even talking about him makes my skin crawl. I can't even think about him and I get queasy.
"Well there you go! You're set right there."
"I'd prefer if we left him out of this. I feel like he'd be very disappointed in me if he had to look into all the details. I know he knows about it, but still. And I'd prefer it if he didn't have to put himself through all that." Another good lie. Way to go, Tori.
He nods. "Well… I can understand where you're coming from. He says. "Are you sure you won't reconsider?" I nod. "Well that brings me to my plan B. What if I helped prove your innocence? Free of charge."
Wait, is he asking me if we want to work with him on this case? Does that mean I'll have to work with my dad? Because if so, that's kind of a pointless question.
"This will be completely confidential. Only we will know about it. Again, you have my word as a police officer and as a man." He states. I'm slowly warming up to the idea, but I can't help but be wary about working with the police on this.
"By completely confidential… you mean…?"
"I mean, Vega won't even know about it. I went to him and said I didn't want this case. This is a dark-op."
"Can you give Cat and I a little while to think about this? This is… big for me in a of ways. Kind of like… a life-saving opportunity."
"Well shouldn't that be all the more reason for you to take me up on my offer?" He asks.
"Well, no, honestly. Because if I work with you, I could be digging my own grave. If I help, I could be unknowingly helping you find evidence against me. What if I'm actually hurting myself by helping the police investigate?"
He throws his hands in the air.
"If you want to prove your innocence, I guess those are the risks you're going to have to be willing to take. It's up to you." He reaches into his back pocket to retrieve his wallet. He opens it up and pulls out a business card with his number on it and hands one to both Cat and I. He stands up and starts walking to the door.
"Agent Borland?" I call out for him before he can exit the door. He turns around.
"Yes, Tori?"
"Will Agent Ross be in on this?"
He smiles and lets out a little chuckle.
Again, before he can leave, Sam comes running in the room.
"I didn't do it, whatever it is. You're just wasting your time here. You can leave if…" She stops when she sees who paid us a visit. "Borland…"
"Puckett…"
"How you been?" Sam asks, dryly.
"I'm okay." He responds in the same way. "You staying out of trouble?"
"Have you seen my name on your desk lately?"
He shakes his head no.
"Well there you go. I'm being a good girl, thanks to Cat here."
He chuckles and turns for the door. "You all have a good rest of your day. Tori, call me." Then he leaves.
"Sam, how do you know Agent Borland?"
"I messed up in High School a little after Carly left for Italy. Don't even ask." She says. "What happened in the past stays in the past. Unless you're drunk in Vegas." After that brief, yet odd encounter with Sam, she walks back into her room.
Cat and I both exhale loudly, for what seems like the thousandth time.
"We have a lot to think about, don't we?" She asks.
"Yeah, we do." I say. "What do you think?"
"Honestly, sweetie, I just think you need to rest. We can talk about this another time." She smiles. "Do you still want something to eat?"
"Yes… that'd be great."
Suddenly, I start smiling. I'm a sweetie. Who knew?
A/N: Okay. So some chiz happened in this chapter. Let me know what you thought in a review. If not, that's fine. But I like reviews. It makes me happy seeing what people think. But hey, do you boo boo. Do you.
Thanks for reading, Fammo.
