Chapter 04
Living as an FBI agent's wife was not what Jessica Douglas had envisioned for herself - nor was it what her parents had wanted either. How many times had Jessica heard "I don't trust that boy?" growing up from her father. Being daddy's little girl of course he was going to worry about her. Her mom was concerned on whether or not she was choosing a path for herself or following her boyfriend. Jessica took it all in stride. And with a few arguments here and there).
Having met Samuel Douglas while attending university, she knew he was a stand-up guy. Working part time as on campus security didn't hurt either. After all, girls did love a man in uniform and that certainly did prove to be true for her.
They had met after one of Jessica's exceptionally late nights studying during her Sophomore year at University. After an internal debate on whether she could get away with an overnight stay in the library, putting her speech classes to good use, Jessica had opted for as best of a good night's sleep she could manage in her own bed. She had heard the "never walk home at night" speech by her parents so many times.
It was in her best interest to use the library phone to call for an escort. Her friends had retired ages ago, making comments about her work horse attitude as they left. After a ten-minute wait, Officer Douglas had arrived; on time, with a flash light, and a smile. A pretty great smile if she were being honest.
"Hi," he had thrust his hand out towards her and proceeded to accept hers in a strong grip, "Officer Samuel Douglas. Where is that I'll be walking you, tonight?"
"Jessica." She gathered her belongings. "Calhoun House. Thank you for walking with me."
"My pleasure." With a sweep of his arms, he motioned towards the exit. "It's my job. Not that I'd have any problem doing so if you had asked me when not in uniform."
Officer Samuel Douglas, a Junior, worked on campus part time. He made some extra money on the side while giving himself time to focus on his studies. The extra pocket change was a nice bonus, as well. As he had explained, he had always wanted to go into law enforcement. A noble profession.
"What had you in the library so late?" He had asked after a moment of silence. "If you don't mind my asking."
"Studying, preparing a speech," Jessica explained, "one of my assignments was to not only work on my public speaking skills, but my presentation skills." At the look on his face, she added, "I'm working towards a Communications degree. I can do a lot with it, and my mom always said I could talk to anybody, so, why not?"
"Probably a good idea for you to ask for an escort then," Samuel pointed out with a half-smile. She was sure she had also puffed out his chest. "You don't know who you could be talking to."
"That's true," she replied, "so it's a good thing I trust you, then." She eased him with a smile. "Besides, I know how to take care of myself."
"All the same, I'm glad you asked for an escort just in case." He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. "You've taken self-defense courses?"
"Martial arts."
"You know martial arts?" Samuel almost stopped walking. He looked her over – partially scrutinizing, and maybe with some wonder? Or was he impressed? Not that she could really blame him. She was a small girl. Approachable. Prime target for anyone that may want to do her any harm. From what her father had always explained to her, it was an advantage that she had. No one would suspect little Jessica Tanaka could hold her own.
"Well...only a little," Jessica admitted, clutching her books to her chest. "My father teaches martial arts and I've sat in on a few classes. He just wants me to be safe, that's all."
"Smart man." Sam's mouth had formed a line. "What did your mom think about it?"
"My mom's fine with it. Even encouraged me. 'If anyone ever tries to mess with you, just pop 'em one.'" Jessica hugged her books to her chest, shrugging her shoulders. "She's always been called a firecracker."
"I don't doubt it" he said, laughing along with her.
The rest of the walk across campus went by quickly. They had discussed their families, their home towns, what they wanted to do with their degrees, and so much more. More than she thought could fit in what was normally a fifteen-minute walk. At some point, she noticed, their pace had slowed considerably. Not that she was complaining. A lack of sleep didn't compare to the easy going feeling as their conversations flowed easily from one topic to another.
Upon finally arriving at her dorm, Samuel had insisted on walking her to her dorm room, and then further inspecting to make sure the room was safe. He waved off her thanks, insisting that he was happy to walk with her, bid her a good night, and left. Jessica didn't need to call for an escort so often after that. There were a handful of other times where Samuel was assigned to respond to the call. And there were times where he started showing up on his own. Just to "check in."
Sometimes with coffee or a warm beverage, and sometimes with a story of his day. He started insisting she call him Sam. She started bringing something for him to eat on his late-night rounds. It quickly grew into a routine. She didn't know when exactly they were known to be a couple. She looked forward to the time they got to spend together after a long day of classes. Even more to the times where he had to "check this building really quick" and she found herself following him on his rounds, occasionally stealing kisses in the dark recesses of the academic buildings.
Their love grew quickly. They spent time together as much as possible and when apart on school holidays and vacations, they called and wrote each other as much as possible. When he left for the FBI Academy, she visited him whenever she could, and had the opportunity to witness his graduation in person. Her parents were civil and opened their home to him whenever he came to visit, but she could see the hesitancy of accepting their relationships.
"It'll just be a hard life," her mom would remind her, "he'll be traveling a lot. It is a very dangerous job."
"And every time he returns, I'll be there to welcome him home," Jessica would answer. "I know the risks, mom. I know it'll he bard. I just want your and dad's support. Please."
"Honey, you know you can come to me if you ever need to talk, if things are hard, if you're lonely. Whatever it is. Your father and I enjoy having you home, or just talking to you on the phone."
"Dad doesn't like him."
"They just don't see eye to eye on some things. They both love you and you want you safe. That they will forever agree on. And, honey, it's the most important thing that matters."
If there was one thing that Sam had always made her feel, it was safe. All those days, weeks, and months alone at the house on her own, or with her infant children, she didn't have much worry. On the most stressful days or lonely days, she only had to hear his voice on the phone and she could relax and refocus. On the flip side, hearing the baby babble from her sons, or the fully formed sentences on various topics such as naming dinosaurs, or counting as high as they could go helped him refocus and remember why he was gone so much. Growing short tempers, occasional passive aggressive comments aside, their lives were normal for them. What marriage didn't go through rough patches?
Not everyone had a rough patch like Hugo Snyder kidnapping her babies, though.
Her babies.
Standing at the window, peering into the backyard, Jessica smiled. She couldn't help it. Watching her sons engage in a tickle fight with each other, just choosing to be each other's friends, always brought a smile to her face. She didn't have any siblings growing up. She always knew she wanted her future kids to have someone to play with. Although Rocky had mentioned from time to time that he liked it better in the two years he was an only child. As if he could remember that.
Tum-Tum had barely made it to the back door before he was ambushed by his older brothers. He was laughing so hard, his face was bright red, barely visible over the ball he had tucked himself in. Rocky and Colt were over him, bumping and jostling each other to try and get the best position to torture their baby brother. Just like when they were in backseats of cars pinching and kicking at each other. What others viewed as roughhousing, she always saw as signs of affection. Her three boys could get on each other's nerves, proven by the often shouted "Mooooom, Rocky/Colt/Tum-Tum won't stop bothering meeee," but they had a tight bond.
Opening the back door, she had stepped into the door way and said, "Boys, I need you washed up before dinner."
"Ok, mom," Rocky said between his laughs, talking over Tum-Tum's cries for help, and Colt's grunts to keep his brother in his grasp. "We'll be right in." He looked up at his mom, eyes shining with mischief, mouth wide in a smile that so much resembled her husband's.
A lot of Samuel Jr. resembled her husband. From his sandy brown hair, down to the line of his jaw. They both had a drive to succeed in life. They were kind to everyone until given a reason not to be. Even then, they do their best to deescalate conflicts. Rocky was grounded, had a semblance of an old soul to his demeanor. He was a natural leader. He could jump into any situation with a sense of self-confidence that always amazed her. Jessica fondly remembered one moment where she was sick with the flu, and he had stepped up and made lunch for his brothers. Of course he couldn't make much more than cheese and crackers, but Colt and Tum-Tum ate it up, and Rocky's proud smile stretched from ear to ear.
"Lasagna." Tum-Tum cheered, managing to wriggle away from his brothers long enough to get to his feet. Blades of grass stuck to his cheeks and he scrubbed it off with the side of his fist. He closed his eyes, almost swaying from side to side. "Homemade sauce, three cheeses, fresh bread. I've been waiting for it all day."
Michael had always been the most attached to herself and Sam. He would be curled against Sam's chest whenever he sat down for the night reading the paper or claim the coveted spot closest to her when reading a bed time story. A baby walker only made him that much more mobile. Whether it was herself or Sam making dinner or a treat, he would be ready, mouth poised in the perfect position for a taste test. As he got older, he was given tasks like helping to crack eggs, or mix ingredients in a bowl (and lick it after). He was more of the eternal kid kind of person, always smiling and having a good time, stepping up whenever he needed to, but more unwillingly at times. Now a teenager, he was coming into his own and really learning about the world.
"Unfortunately mom," Colt said, "with how good your food is, I don't think Tum is ever going to move out." He had one eye closed against the setting sun and was in a crouch, arms resting on his knees.
If he had been a girl, Jeffery would have been named after Jessica. It had always been at the top of the list of baby names she held close to her heart. And it was only fair with Samuel naming their first born after himself. Upon notification that they were having a second boy, she and Sam both agreed that their new baby would have a name with double letters like her.
While her oldest and youngest sons did lean more towards resembling one parent, Jeffery was a mix of Jessica and Sam. He certainly got his temper from his father, and his knack for quick wit (or sarcasm) from her. Arguably, he was the most sensitive, but would never admit it. Like her, he could internalize things. Like Sam, he could shut down and lash out in anger. However, Colt knew when to stand up for himself and for others. And he wasn't afraid to challenge things he didn't completely agree with.
Truth be told, he was the one she worried about the most.
"I'm not ready for any of my boys to leave," Jessica said, "so I'm going to enjoy it while I still can." She smiled at the embarrassed looks her boys exchanged followed by rolled eyes. "Don't leave anything on your floor, clothes in baskets, and make sure all this equipment is back in the garage."
"Sure, mom. We'll get right on it."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Hurry. The faster we're done, the faster we can eat."
Laughing quietly to herself, Jessica left her boys to do her bidding and went to find her husband. Their responses were right in line to their personalities. She made a beeline for his office, unsurprised to find him perched in his chair. Instead of his usual attitude when dealing with work, back straight, strong shoulders, commanding voice, he almost melted over his desk. His work phone was pressed to his ear, weight pressed heavily into his elbow and forearm. His voice was rough, lower, quiet. Not like how he had just used it hours before when defending his actions against their son.
It wasn't until Rocky, Colt, and Tum-Tum had trained regularly in the martial arts that his thoughts on the topic had really come out. He didn't hate the martial arts. In fact, he understood that having maneuvers in your wheel house to break anyone's unwanted hold on you was important. He was just of the mind to think to leave things to the professionals. Ones who had been trained in all forms of encounters to step in and handle things. Jessica did agree with him to an extent: respond to the best of your ability, and then seek out others that can handle any escalation. He was more worried of people using their knowledge to be aggressive and fight all of the time, drawing resources away from areas that didn't need it.
"Sam…" Jessica didn't need to say any more. When her husband looked her in the eye, she could see just how exhausted he was. Exhausted of the situation.
"Thanks, Jerry," Sam said into the phone, keeping his eyes on his wife. "I got everything I need here. Nothing seems to have come up, but please let me know if anything comes across your desk that you think connects to this."
Door shut behind her, Jessica crossed the room to her husband's side. He ended the call, setting his phone face down onto the desk. Jessica spotted the fanned-out pictures and documents that chronicled the life of Hugo Snyder that had been concealed under his arms. "Everything's ok, Sam. Another year with no incidences."
"I just can't get him out of my head, honey," Sam said, shaking his head back and forth. "After all this time, I just can't."
"I know." It took a long time after the event to not jump whenever the phone rang. What if it was more bad news? What if the boys were to be subjected to even more interviews? Maybe something else had
"The things he's done…" He settled back against the cushion of his chair. "It's one thing to get into a shoot-out as an FBI agent, but he threatened my family. He threatened the core of who I am." Jessica lowered herself down onto the arm of the chair. One arm going around his neck, she gently pulled him back to lean against him. She stroked his hair with the other hand. She felt him slowly relax. Jessica only relaxed when he pushed his fingers through the one draped over his shoulder, the other looping around her waist. "I don't know how things could have turned out this way. Hugo used to be that guy that hung around all of the time. That was all." He closed his eyes. "I should have listened and allowed myself to be pulled off the case when it was presented to us."
"We can't change that now," Jessica said. "Everything worked out. We're safe. The boys are turning more and more into young men every day." She kissed the top of his head. "We've been doing a good job, don't you think?"
"I wouldn't have been able to do any of it without you holding down the fort." Sam opened his eyes and looked up at her. "I don't know what I'd do without you. If I don't say it enough, I really do appreciate every single thing you do around here. Thank you." His chest swelled with a sigh and his eyes blazed with admiration. "Thank you for going through life with me."
Just like on their wedding day, she felt her heart flutter. "I should be thanking you for that, actually," Jessica replied. "Thank you for walking me home."
"Yeah," Sam reached up and kissed her on the cheek, "always."
"Ball." Friday afternoon, Colt clapped his hands together, quickly shuffling sideways past his team mate in an attempt to get open. "Ball, ball, ball!" He grunted, colliding shoulder to shoulder with an opponent wearing a bright yellow pinny. Spinning on the spot, he maneuvered past his opponent and quickly lost pace with them as he charged down the field, one hand waving in the air.
Pop.
The spinning soccer ball arched through the air. Planting one cleat into the ground, Colt pushed off the outside of his foot, cutting in the opposite direction. He laughed to himself when he heard the under the breath curse behind him as he placed his body between the ball and the opposing team member. Angling himself forward, he used his chest to stop he ball from bouncing too high off the ground. With the top of his foot, he tapped the ball forward and surged towards the goal. Wind passed by his ears, so loud, he could barely hear the Footsteps thudding behind him.
"Got me back, got me back." Brett was behind him, vocalizing his help if it was needed. There was only one more player between Colt and the goalie. He could easily out maneuver the player in front and behind him. Judging by the shouts of the players, that's exactly what they expected of him, too.
"B," Colt called, planting one foot in the ground. Using his forward momentum, Colt leaned to his left, swinging his right leg forward, striking the soccer ball with the inside curve of his foot. Lifting into the air, the soccer ball arched across the penalty box.
Brett jumped into the air and pointed his foot perpendicular to the ground. Striking the ball on its bounce, it shot towards the goal. Fingers outstretched, the goal keeper barely touched the ball as it sailed into the net.
Yes. Colt pumped his fist, jogging over to Brett to slap his palm. "Nice one."
"Nice pass," Brett said. He doubled over to pull up his left sock and shin guard. "Almost didn't make it there in time." He adjusted his right side.
"You had it," Colt said with a scoff. "I knew you'd get there in time."
Brett made a clicking sound with his mouth as he straightened. "Almost had to go left-footed," he said, "Still don't really have the balance for it, yet." Grasping the collar of his shirt, Brett lifted it to wipe the sweat from his nose and jaw. "Coach has me on the wrong side."
Colt merely shrugged, tilting his head in the direction of the whistle coming from down field. He wasn't too fond with the position he was playing either – being a center midfielder was nothing to talk down to. Working both on offense and defense, they could be some of the hardest working people on the field. Calling shots, watching the players to know the best course of action, even at times switching with a forward to take the ball into the defender's end of the field.
Right wing, or even a forward, was more his speed. But it was still very early in the school year. Their first game was coming up, but not too quickly where Coach Cahill wasn't able to work out where all his players' best positions were.
Colt was just happy that this was one sport Rocky didn't seem to have any interest in. Or Tum-Tum for that matter. Baseball and the martial arts were one thing, but he would pull his hair out if he didn't have anything of his own to share. Still, Rocky and Tum-Tum did their best to come to every game, cheering along with anyone else, sharing their views of the high moments of the game, and commiserating with the low moments.
"Gather in everyone, come on, come on."
Breaking into a jog, Colt crossed the large field before lowering himself into a kneeling position. Wetting his lips, he peered up at his coach. Coach Cahill who stood hunched over his kneeling players, hands on his knees, dark sunglasses blocking his eyes.
"I know you're all getting tired of switching around," he announced after a moment of silence, "getting comfortable in certain player's positions only to move to a place you're not comfortable. You're rallying hard, and over the weekend, I'll take the time to finalize everything." He nodded his head at the sporadic clapping heard from the team. "It's your weekend, so I won't make you stay here much longer, but I'm seeing good things, here. You all are a strong bunch, and we have a great chance of doing incredible things this season."
"We've got some seniors leaving at the end of this season, but we have emerging leaders with our juniors, and great talent with the sophomores and freshmen we do have." More applause that Colt joined in on.
He had been one of the lucky few to join the team as a sophomore. His speed was a main factor in the decision to move him up, but he was a quick study and picked up on all the tricks and fundamentals in no time. As he had been told, he could see the field in a way, no one else could – as if he was looking down at it from above.
"I have a great feeling about this season. I hope you all feel it, too. Now, get out of here. Two laps cool down and have a great weekend." Coach Cahill straightened, and held out his hand. Getting to his feet, Colt joined his teammates and added his hand to the pile of sweaty, warm hands of his team mates. "Team on three. One, two, three."
"TEAM."
"Douglas, hold on a second."
Brett clapped Colt on the back as he maneuvered past him to start his two laps for a cool down. Colt nodded, indicating to his coach that his request was heard. Both of them waited for the team to get further down the field before either of them spoke.
"I know your head hasn't been in this the past week or so," Coach Cahill said. Colt tightened the muscles in his face. He stared back at his coach. On his very first practice with the Varsity team, Coach Cahill had paused on his name during roll call. His eyes flicked upwards over the top of his sign-up sheet and stayed glued to Colt's face for a moment longer than the other players. He knew exactly who Colt was. "You don't have to explain anything to me, but I just want you to know I am proud of this turn around. Nothing out there has to dictate what occurs on this field, but I know that can be hard at times. You've jumped right back into practice and gave it all on the field. That's the kind of player I'm looking for to lead this team."
"Thanks, coach." Colt felt himself suddenly flush. Attention and praise. He still wasn't used to it. After everything that had happened over the years, he could have people sticking cameras in his face, microphones, and hailing himself and his brothers as heroes. It was cool. Then it was kind of annoying. His grandpa was right, as a ninja, you did everything to help because you could, not for the glory.
"Go on and take your laps." Coach Cahill clapped him on the shoulder, gently shaking him. "Have a great weekend."
With that, Colt leaned forward, and set off at a jog. He finished his laps in no time and met up with Brett, who hung back, taking sips from his water bottle. Colt held out one hand, using his fingers to motion to his friend that he wanted some. With his other hand, he removed the band holding his hair back, and shook his hair out, allowing it to settle around his shoulders.
"Hi, Jeffery."
Catching the water bottle thrown at him, Colt tilted his head back, all the while looking over to see who called his name. A group of girls, all with their hair tied up in high ponytails, in tank tops and shorts, were making their way down the asphalt path between the football and soccer fields.
Cheerleaders, and some girls from the tennis team as well. They finger waved in Colt's direction. In return, Colt briefly lifted his hand in a wave. Still, the action earned a round of giggles and shushes. Over the top of the water bottle, Colt could see Brett shaking his head in amusement. Still, Colt gulped down the water before lifting the hem of his shirt up over his stomach to dry his chin. A second round of shushes and giggles was heard.
"I don't know how you do it, man," Brett said, catching his water bottle against his chest after Colt threw it back to him. "The girls are always trying to get some attention from you." Colt shrugged, falling into step beside his friend as they stepped through the field gates and made their way towards the gym.
"I've noticed," Colt said.
Brett snorted. "Don't tell me you think they're just being nice."
"I'm just not interested." Colt at least was not interested in any of those girls.
There were a few girls that he hung out with (others would actually use the word "date") over the years, but nothing too serious. It was all just fun. If he found someone attractive, and enjoyed their company, why not make it a point to focus his attention on them? If it lined up with a school function, that was even better. He did his best to make sure things ended amicably. Once he wasn't feeling it anymore, he just let them know and moved on. It was high school, things weren't supposed to be serious.
He and Jo Lightning were a little more than a summer thing, but living in two different places, things fizzled pretty quickly. They were still great friends, though. She was with Rocky and Tum-Tum, too. In fact, he thought to himself, they were overdue for a visit to her home.
Everyone always wondered whether there was something going on between himself and Amanda Ryder after what had happened at the Mega Mountain Amusement Park. (It wasn't an event they talked about much but was in their repertoire of "heroics" that people recognized him from.) Sure, she was incredibly helpful with everything that happened at the park, and he warmed up to all the special effects prototypes she carried on her person, but they were nothing more than friends – if that. At school, she was more often found in the computer lab or art studio. She didn't stay in the neighborhood long as she and her mom moved closer to her dad's work, so his commute wouldn't be as long. Highway traffic around the area was no joke.
"Better get used to letting them down gently," Brett said, shoving his shoulder, "you know they'll all be trying to snag you when Homecoming rolls around."
"Maybe."
"Maybe," Brett repeated with a laugh. "At least try not to break too many hearts and leave some of the girls for the rest of us." He clapped Colt on the back as they headed into the locker room. "You got any plans this weekend? Thinking of heading out to the beach. Heard there may be a party down there."
"Sounds good. Keep me posted."
"Sure, dude."
After quickly gathering his belongings, Colt made a beeline for the parking lot. Backpack hanging off one shoulder, soccer bag off the other, flip flops striking his heels with each step, he couldn't help but smile. The rest of the school week flew past without any incident, soccer practices were going well, and the weekend was finally here! Two whole days free of anything school related. Mostly. He would have to carve out time Sunday night to do all of his homework.
"Colt, hey."
"Hey, Em," Colt greeted Emily, changing his direction to walk over to Rocky's car. "What's up?"
"Waiting to catch a ride over to your place with Rocky." Colt lifted his eyebrows but smiled and nodded. He knew that Emily would wait for Rocky anywhere. "I've texted him. Have you seen him?"
"Good question," Colt said. "I haven't seen him since lunch."
"Oh."
"I can take you home if you want," Colt offered, "mom took Tum right after school. I have no idea how long Rock will be."
"No, it's ok." Emily adjusted the strap of her own backpack up her arm. She waved her hand in the air. "I don't mind waiting. I'll try calling again."
Yeah, I'll bet. Colt pressed his lips together, trying hard not to smile. He also knew she would wait for Rocky as long as possible.
Even after all these years, even when he openly discussed other girls he was attracted to, Emily still held out hope for him. It was actually kind of sweet. Not that he would admit it out loud. Or quietly. Or at all. Honestly, he didn't think anything would ever happen between Emily and Rocky. Though he was able to witness that as they got older, things got less awkward and shy between them. Especially on her end. Despite not seeing each other as often as when hey were kids (Thank god), Emily was still a good friend to his brother, despite whatever feelings she still had.
She and Colt never really had a problem between the two of them. He just thought she hung around a lot. And couldn't keep up with them. And sucked the fun out of a lot of things. But she did prove to be able to handle things on her own. She knew when to put her foot down when she wasn't being treated well, and if her right hook was anything to go by the night of the abduction, she could handle herself when pushed far enough. Emily was ok in his books.
"What is your mom preparing for tonight, anyway?" Emily asked.
"You'd actually have to ask Tum once you get there," Colt corrected her. Emily's eyes widened in surprise. "He's really gotten into The Food Network over the years."
"Really?"
"We haven't been poisoned yet, so that's good. And I'm sure he'll do his best to make sure that doesn't happen with you over for dinner, either." Emily laughed. "Ok, so I'll see you at our place then. I guess." He nodded towards the school. "If Rock takes too long, just call, I can swing back around to get you. And kick his butt for making you wait, while I'm at it."
"Thanks, Colt."
"Anytime." He didn't know exactly when it had happened, but somewhere along the line, Emily had become okay in his book. (If he had to guess, it was somewhere between the time of the strike of her foot against the "robbers'" leg that night and smacking him in the face.)
Upon returning home, whatever it was Tum-Tum was making for dinner, was already filling the house with an incredible smell. Tum-Tum had always been picky about his food, and even more picky in regard to who got to "enter his kitchen" before dinner was even made. Managing to grab a cookie from the few that was left on the counter (Mom must have made him save some, he thought to himself), he took the stairs up to his room two at a time.
Rocky and Emily had arrived at the Douglas home at some point during his shower and change. He could hear his mom speaking with Emily through the floor of his room, catching up on each other's lives. Colt was sure that his mom saw Emily as the daughter she never had. Colt often wondered how both his parents felt never having a daughter, but never knew how to bring up the question. It wasn't like there was anything wrong with having all boys. But there was that wonder: how did his parents decide to stop having kids after Tum-Tum; what would it be like to have a sister; and would she be as into martial arts as her brothers?
It was all so strange.
Colt had been busy drowning out those thoughts with his guitar (making sure the volume wasn't cranked too high on his amp) when Rocky, Tum-Tum, and Emily walked in, making themselves comfortable. He merely glanced over at them, instantly choking the chord he was playing with a tight grip on the fret board.
"That sounded good," Emily commented, lowering herself to a seated position on the floor, her back pressed against the side rail of his bed.
"I was just fooling around," Colt said, removing the guitar strap from around his neck. He suddenly felt embarrassed. It wasn't like his room was soundproof and no one was able to hear him. That was different than someone watching him practice, though. "But, thanks. What's going on?" He used his hands to brush his hair back, moving to sit on his bed, his mattress creaking under his weight.
"Well, how was therapy?" Emily asked, looking around at each boy. Colt twisted his mouth to the side. "I don't have my next session until next week." Her lips lifted into a hint of a smile. "I actually think I'm ready to start the exit process."
Rocky nodded his head, smiling. Tum-Tum gave a golf clap and an enthusiastic, "That's great." Colt just lifted his eyebrows in surprise. When would they ever get to the point where they could stop going to therapy? With Rocky leaving for college, god knew he wouldn't have to take part in it as much anymore.
"I haven't had any nightmares for a long time," Emily explained, "and I've doing pretty well with managing my anxiety, too."
Rocky let out an odd laugh. "Good time, too," he said, "this school year is pretty big. College acceptances, choosing where we're going to go, graduating."
Colt rolled his eyes. He shook his head. His knees started bouncing. In less than a year, Rocky would be able to leave all this crap behind. And he was stuck with it. He didn't have a choice but to relive it every year. To talk about it when all he wanted to do was move on. Even now, he had no control. His ninja skills couldn't help him, just like they didn't help him when they were taken from their home.
For every good thing that he or his brothers could ever do, no matter how happy or normal they could feel, it would be marred by that one event in their lives. And he hated knowing that. He hated that without fail, the sound of Snyder's name would make his chest tighten, his palms sweat, and his heart race more than it did when he had to run timed suicides on the soccer field. Even when Snyder wasn't around, he still had control over some part of his life.
But not anymore. Not now. They had moved twice to get away from him, he wasn't going to seep into this house, either.
"For once, can we not talk about this?" Colt asked, interrupting whatever it was that Emily was currently discussing. She looked up at him over her shoulder, eyebrows coming together in a look of hurt. But he didn't care. "It's what therapy is for. Helping us move on. This happened years ago, ok? I's done."
"Colt." One single word. Rocky's face was fixed into a frown, eyes narrowed into a look of disapproval. Tum-Tum sat wide-eyed, looking back and forth between his brothers.
"No, Rock." Colt clasped his hands together. They were starting to shake, too. "It's all the time. I'm just done. This was something between dad and grandpa, and somehow, we got stuck in the middle of it. We shouldn't have ever been in the middle."
"You can't explain blame dad and grandpa for that," Emily said quietly. "Your mom and dad, and your grandpa had lives before you all came along. There is no way they knew he would ever turn out like this." Colt got to his feet and started to pace. "I can guarantee you, no matter how badly you feel about the whole thing, they're ten times worse."
"Mom and dad used to fight a lot," Tum-Tum said quietly. "When I couldn't sleep, I'd get a snack from the kitchen—"
"Because that's different than any other day," Colt said with a snort. Tum-Tum stuck his tongue out at Colt, pulling a pillow to his chest.
"Let him talk," Rocky said, sounding tired, yet with a chuckle.
"It was just stupid," Tum-Tum said. "I hate it when mom and dad argue."
"And they always argue about this. See? Everyone's tired of it. It's stupid."
"Sure, maybe no one wants to deal with anymore, but you can't just ignore that it happened," Rocky replied. "Clearly, mom and dad think there's some residual stuff going on with us that maybe we don't realize and that's why we're still going to therapy." Rocky shot Colt an annoyed look. "You could have talked about what was going with you, you know."
"I had asked him, Rock. Straight out, I had asked grandpa who the guy was, and he said it was no one."
"By that point, he may as well have been a stranger to grandpa. He doesn't lie. You know that. You can't keep beating yourself up about this, dude. And you can't be a jerk to everyone else just because you don't want to talk about it. Maybe other people need to." Rocky angled his head towards Emily.
"And maybe you all need to move on." Colt threw his hands into the air. "How often have you checked the newspaper this year, Rock? Or searched Twitter or Facebook for anything?"
Rocky was silent for a moment before finally saying, "That doesn't matter. Nothing's happening."
Colt scoffed, storming out of the room. When did he get so hot? Stepping into the bathroom, Colt ran some cold water and pushed it over his face. He sensed Rocky standing behind him and shot his brother an annoyed look in the mirror.
"What's going on?" Rocky asked. Colt grabbed a towel and dabbed at his face. Don't ignore me, dude. There's you being short-tempered, and you being a jerk. You always are more of a jerk this time of year."
"I'm fine." Colt turned around to face his brother, tossing his towel into the sink. "I can take care of myself."
"And I damn sure hope you can." Rocky crossed his arms over his chest. "Because after I'm gone, you're going to need to step up around here." Colt snorted. "I'm serious. I'll be back here for holidays and breaks, and you can still tell me whatever it is you need, or what's bothering you. Whether I'm here or at school, that's not going to change."
"Yeah, right. College is all about change. Everyone changes."
"And you hate change more than anyone, but that doesn't mean you can ignore it." Rocky looked away from a moment, uncrossing his arms. He shoved his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and shrugged. "Sure, I know you can take care of things in your own way. But that's not how you handle this situation. You can't shut people out."
"I'm not shutting people out," Colt protested. "I'm just…I'm so tired of all of this."
"You know, I wish I could be more like you. More outspoken. More selfish."
Colt snorted. "Some pep talk, Rock."
"No, I really mean that. You don't have a problem thinking about yourself, taking care of yourself. You know how to put that division. Me, I'm always thinking about everybody else. About mom and dad, and grandpa, you and Tum, my friends. I've always worked to make things easier for everybody else and now I have to go to college and really be all about myself."
"That's sad, dude. You really need to get a life."
"My life revolves around making sure you and Tum will be ok without me. I have no shame in that. In fact I'm proud of it. I'm proud that you wanted to do everything I wanted to do. I'm proud when you both figure out how to do things that I can't, or even faster than me. You know, I've always been envious of you and Tum, how close you've gotten."
"You and Tum are close."
"Not as close as you two. Maybe you've learned to tolerate each other, being stuck in the same room all these years. And it'll just grow after I graduate this year, man."
"Come on, Rock."
"Believe me, I'm just glad you guys aren't arguing all the time anymore. Or picking on each other. It's like you had said, you take things from dad because it's easier to just deal with. Well, it's easier for me to deal with everything else. I'm just letting you know that none of us have it easy. Not truly. We all have things we need to deal with. Whether it's now or later. You just have to deal."
"How can you deal? How can you deal with knowing that grandpa had taught Snyder how to be a ninja? And that he used it all to his benefits? To break the law, to do something so drastic as kidnapping us just to get to dad? They were all friends. What went wrong?"
"Who knows?"
"Yeah, well," Colt muttered, brushing past Rocky, "I'm going to find out."
"Colt." Rocky grabbed his brother's arm, stopping him in the hallway. "Come on."
"You can't tell me you're not curious. You heard grandpa that day. He said he taught Snyder how to be a ninja, not how to murder someone." Rocky twisted his mouth to the side, eyebrows pulling towards each other. "How does someone go from training with grandpa to murder? You've always been looking for anything to do with Snyder in the papers. I think we need to start looking backwards. And who better to help us then someone who plans on majoring in journalism?"
"Emily is in a good place," Rocky said slowly, "I don't know if we should bring her into this." Still, he looked interested. "So, what do you propose we do? Where do we start?"
"Talk to grandpa," Colt instantly replied. Rocky looked like he was going to protest, and Colt rushed on, putting his hands up defensively. "I need to apologize to him, anyway. I shouldn't have been so harsh, thinking he turned on us. I've never apologized for it."
"You don't ever need to apologize to him. You know that. He would say the same thing."
"I still feel like I need to." Colt sighed. "I just had this feeling that something wasn't right. Deep down, I knew grandpa would never do anything like that."
"Of course he wouldn't," Rocky agreed. "You were just scared. Trying to understand what was going on."
"And now I think to really understand, we have to start asking questions."
Rocky relaxed into a grin. "I thought you were just saying you were done with it."
"Yeah, well, maybe you're right. Maybe we do have to talk about things. Everything."
Rocky stared at Colt for a moment before doing something he hadn't done in a long time: he lifted a hand and placed it on Colt's head, forcing it downward. Then, he kissed his brother on the forehead, before using his fingers to shove Colt's head away.
"You really are growing up, Colt," he said. Then an annoyed look came across his face. "In more ways than one; when did you get taller than me?" Colt just smiled. "Ok. Let's go tell Tum and Emily the plan."
Running his hands over his short hair, Hugo Snyder stared up at the underside of the bunk above him. It hadn't changed over the years, and yet he still found himself intently staring at it for hours on end. Almost as if he dared it to change.
That was just the way he was: he never gave himself the opportunity to miss even the smallest detail.
Only when he heard knocking on the heavy metal door of his cell, did he break his stare. A man with a square-like face stood in the doorway, leering down at him. "Got your note," he said in a gruff voice, lower jaw poking out as if he was talking around a toothpick or a cigarette. "You wanted to see me?"
"Jack Harding," Snyder said with a sigh, fluffing his pillow behind him. He crossed his arms over his chest and his lips parted in a smile. "Long time no talk."