"Would you do it with me
Heal the scars and change the stars
Would you do it for me
Turn loose the heaven within"
"Ever Dream" – Nightwish – Century Child
Chapter Seven – Taking Flight
AN: Digital Mellotrons didn't come out until 2010. I'm playing fast and loose with the timeline, here.
One frustrated good-night kiss later found Wilson wanting to bang his forehead on the steering wheel. That, he thought ruefully, had not quite gone the direction he'd hoped. He hadn't exactly struck out, but the presence of a police officer had decidedly killed the mood. All that warm, willing woman in his arms, then BAM. There he was, alone, frustrated and horny. Longingly he watched the same warm, willing woman let herself into the apartment she shared with her dad, and vowed that next time – if there was a next time and he fervently hoped there would be – they would be in a location much more accommodating than a public park.
With that vow he gunned the accelerator, then pulled the Volvo away from the curb, letting the tires squeal as he went.
Never was Brid so relieved in her life than at the moment Cole took over her end of the fundraiser. He dove in head first and smoothed out contractual areas that Brid was lost at approaching.
Names for the music festival had been bandied around, shot down, revived and discussed until one was settled on that everybody agreed with.
"She was, after all, a protector of children," Sabrina commented as the two women conferred over tea in Sabrina's kitchen.
"She also kicked some major ass," was Brid's reply. "So, 'Artemis Fest' it is?"
"Works for me."
The lineup went through its own growing pains, forcing them to spread the entire festival over two days. In the mix were enough music genres to give the promoters nightmares. They finally agreed to focus on the common ground instead of what they didn't share, and that was the battle against cancer.
Then there were the sessions Brid had with Night's Desire. They'd agreed that after having been separated from her for nearly a year they should rehearse the set, and rehearse they did. New songs were worked in, along with Angela's growling vocals lending a unique twist. They were, however, missing one thing.
A keyboardist.
A really good keyboardist.
Try as Cole might, finding someone who could play like Tommy was turning into a fruitless search. Even getting a keyboardist just for the rehearsals and the festival had turned up a big fat nothing. House's name was brought up, considered, then decided on – he would play the piano for both Sabrina and Brid, but they needed someone else to play the stacks of synthesizers Night's Desire was known for. When they informed House that he'd have his moments on the stage they all saw something very rarely seen from him – a smile. With teeth.
Finally inspiration came from Julien, and as he admitted later, he wondered why it hadn't occurred to him earlier.
"You know, guys, I'm friends with Matt and Michael Lee Pinder, right?" The lanky blond was leaning against House's piano, having been quiet while the other band members and Sabrina debated the issue.
"Mike Pinder's sons? What about them?" Mark asked in response. "Last I heard they were touring up the West Coast. Neither of them would have time for this."
"They might not, but what about their old man?" At the stunned silence he received Julien added, "I mean, let's face it. If it wasn't for Mike and his Mellotron it's likely none of us would be here. He helped start the whole symphonic rock thing with the Moody Blues. And, I'll just bet he can play a synth with his eyes closed and one hand tied behind his back."
Heads swung to stare at Cole, whose jaw was slack with astonishment. "You want me to ask the Mike Pinder to join us for the fest."
"Yeah, that's about it," Julien replied.
"Uhm, yeah. You know he's in his sixties, right?"
"Yup. Hasn't stopped other rockers, has it?"
"Good point. Sure, I'll ask him. Might do the old man some good to get out of his rocking chair."
"The old man," as it turned out, didn't own a rocking chair, nor did he look as though he'd spent his retirement playing bingo. Pinder was more than happy to join for the fest and insisted on not being compensated. He showed up three days after the contract was signed, and to everyone's delight, he'd brought along a new digital Mellotron, practically fresh off the manufacturer's floor, to go with his own stack of synths.
"Haven't had much of a chance to play the bloody thing, but there's no time like the present," he commented cheerfully as he set it up in the auditorium they were using for rehearsals. At House's look of longing he added, "Want to have a go at it sometime? Beats a synthesizer if you want a full orchestral sound."
"Well, if you're offering…" Only the slightest twitch gave away the fact that House wasn't as nonchalant as he was trying to sound.
"I'm offering."
"Cool. Before the concert?"
"Of course."
Through all of this Grant's health slowly deteriorated, each day finding him a little weaker, tiring more easily. His use of morphine slowly crept up at the same time to offset the increased pain. Wilson dropped by frequently, both to check up on his patient and to check in on his relationship with Brid. The former was progressing pretty much as he had expected, and he knew his dropping by was only to offer support and comfort.
The latter, though, was making him feel off-kilter. In most of the relationships he'd been in over the years he'd jumped forward and taken charge, wining, dining and wooing the one he was pursuing as fast into bed as he could direct. This time the progression was so slow he found himself stuck in perpetual arousal. There was no way around it. So much was going on with the concert preparations that he knew his longing would have to wait.
So he waited, wishing that he could repress something else- the growing feelings that went beyond lust. Try as he might, those niggling feelings wouldn't go away. What did it take? he wondered as he gazed at Brid from across the room as she went over the set with her bandmates. He would have thought that after three wives, the occasional lover, then the loss of Amber, that he would have been burnt out on love. Yet, there it was, staring him in the eye. His thoughts went back again to what he'd always thought his type was, and he knew she broke every image he'd ever had of his type.
She looked up, caught his gaze, and offered him a warm smile that tingled down his spine. There was the psychic side of her, as well, he thought, one that she rarely let slip his direction. He suddenly realized he wanted to be a part of that, as well – to know the inner beauty of her mind and feel it join with his. He knew House and Sabrina had that link. Damn, he envied the man.
The stage was empty, not even set up yet. Brid walked out to the center and stared across the arena that in a few days would hold a sold-out crowd. Night's Desire would go on, without one of its founders, and she would be a part of it. She thought of her dad, lying in bed a few miles away, far from her protection. He would see the concert by the means of video, one initially designed to capture the highlights of the concerts for DVD sales, but also set up for streaming at the web site that Nash had negotiated with the promoters.
On the outside, everything appeared to be perfect, but inside Brid's nerves were jangling. This had been her bright idea, she reminded herself severely. Why did she have this sense of unease? Hesitantly she let her mind reach out, seeking… and she staggered back at the wave of hatred that careened through her. So that was it, she thought, wishing her hands would stop trembling. Oh, Tommy, her thoughts continued as she slowly reeled herself in. Nothing good could come from all that negativity.
"Brid?" Sabrina approached her and she forced herself to smile. "I picked up… something."
"Yeah." This one she couldn't hide, she realized, carefully letting down a chink of her psychic wall to let Sabrina feel what had happened. She watched as the other woman closed her eyes, frowned, and then let her features go lax as she gently slid into Brid's mind.
Such hatred.
Yeah.
Loss, despair, anger. He feel betrayed.
I wish I understood why.
Sabrina snorted.
That's easy enough. He was in love with you.
No way.
Or at least his perception of love.
Possession.
Yes.
Brid shivered.
If that's his idea of love then I want no part of it.
Slowly they both opened their eyes. Brid was surprised to find Sabrina's hands intertwined with hers as waves of comfort slid from her to Brid.
"Remember, you have friends who care about you, and you are capable of doing this without him," Sabrina said quietly. "We have your back."
"I know if I send out feelers I can keep a watchful eye on him, but I don't think I can hold up under the strain," Brid admitted.
"Then we'll all contribute… yes, Greg is agreeing with me on this one. We'll have to leave your dad out of this, though. He's not up to it."
"Dad!" Brid let out a groan of frustration. "He doesn't need this right now. Please, I'd like to leave him out of this battle."
"We will."
"What's going on?"
Both women turned to see Wilson standing off to one side, a puzzled expression on his face. Brid closed her eyes and let out a sigh. "It's… nothing, James," she finally murmured, pretending not to notice when Sabrina gave her a mental nudge of annoyance. "Or, at least nothing I can explain easily."
"What?" He advanced towards her, concern written all over his features, shooting Sabrina a look of bewilderment as she turned on her heels and left the stage. "Something you're keeping from me?"
"James, I…" If he touched her he would know, she thought grimly.
"Yes?" His frown deepened when she stepped back from him. "Or let me guess… it's a secret."
"It's not like that," she began. "It's just that some things are…"
"What? Too personal? Or maybe you're just afraid of letting me in." She gave him a stunned look, feeling herself start to shake inside as he added, "You don't know how frustrating this is. Dammit, Bridgette, I… want to be a part of what you have to share. You don't seem to mind sharing with House, of all people. Why not me?"
He turned away and she forced herself not to cry. "Don't…" she whispered. "Please don't." Tentatively she reached out, and found the walls he'd raised. "It works both ways, James," she finally said. "You have to let me in, too."
With that she strode off the stage, not knowing he was giving her a pained look of longing before he shook his head and walked the opposite direction. Great going, Romeo, he thought glumly. This was one setback that he didn't need. She didn't need, he corrected himself as he beat a hasty retreat from the stage.
