Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are mine. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
AN : In my mind this was supposed to be done by Thursday, my mind obviously measures times in a whole different way than the rest of the world :). I know this is short, but it was either short today or long next Friday.
Chapter 7: Imitation of a Life
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The sun rays sneak through the half open curtains, particles of dust fly suspended in the air and he is unable to stop looking at them. It's such a common sight, however, it's still mesmerising in its simplicity. If only the rest of the things in life were that simple and elegant.
A dark mug is held in front of his eyes, the smell tells him is black tea and ginger, a combination that he prefers whenever he gets in this sort of contemplative mood. His fingers grasp the mug as he prepares himself for the talk he managed to elude last night.
"Did you at least attempt to close your eyes this time? You need to sleep at some point, you're starting to look half dead."
He's tired of lying. Tired of pretending that things are fine when they're not, however, the certainty that things could be infinitely worse always success in stopping him from complaining.
"Do I ever? It's the only time when I can actually watch her without having to play a part."
Tommy snickers at him as he slides his frame against the wall to sit beside him. It's not the kind of dignified sound one would expect from the heir of a billion dollars company, still it's exactly what he expects from his best friend.
"Oh, you mean that yesterday you were not trying to get a reaction from of her? I'm quite sure that training is not supposed to end up looking like that. I should know, after all, I did train you."
Yes, he does know that, though he doesn't regret it. Yesterday, just for a couple of minutes it felt like she was back. The fire in her eyes and the way she moved. For a moment in time he lost track of himself. He's not going to apologize for forgetting and wanting it to be true.
"What do you think are the odds of our survival this time around? I say 60%, though if it ends up depending on allies and from what I've seen so far I'll say 30%."
"That's not an answer Alex."
Tommy sounds slightly annoyed, if there's one thing he has always been is straightforward, sometimes to a painful degree. Tommy Valmont honestly hates when people run around in circles instead of being upfront. It's probably the hardest thing to pretend when he has to act like the careless rich boy society expects of him.
It's not Alex's intention to rile him up, not at the moment at least. He needs to make him look at the things from his perspective.
"It is an answer, though not the one you wanted. Last time we decided to step into their matters our losses factored in my decision. The lives of our people suffered because of it. It was a selfish decision, though none of you even tried to stop me."
"You're right, what we lost, what you lost made it easier for you to decide. However, it wasn't a selfish or thoughtless act. We needed time to get back on our feet, going back wouldn't have helped any of us."
The truth is they don't know that. Maybe leaving would have helped to save some lives, maybe nothing would have changed. He wants to believe he took the right decision, yet there's no way to know. He never intended for the others to stay, he simply knew he was not leaving without her.
"It feels like forever since my life made any sense. Am I still the right person for this job, was I ever the best choice?"
"I never had doubts about it then, and I don't have them now. Despite what you might regard as true, you have done an exceptional job and nobody has ever put in question your position."
"Until now." He hadn't been surprised at the opposition; actually, he would have been shocked if everyone accepted his word without an argument. It didn't mean that some of the things that were said in those meetings hadn't left him feeling dreadfully exposed. His personal life should have never become a topic, though it did, and that's when he had felt seriously tempted to throw caution to the wind and tell everyone to fuck off.
"They were not questioning your decision, well…they were, but not in the way you are thinking. She almost died, you almost fade, things escalated way too fast and we were unable to do anything about it. They are afraid for you, not of you. Last night's behaviour is not really helping."
"Sometimes it feels as if she's back. The way she talks and moves is so similar and I get my hopes up even though I know it's useless. I know it is never going to happen, but when those little things sum up in my head my brain shuts down and I just want to believe that it could be. I want to believe that all is not lost."
"Alex…"
"I'm not afraid, I'm actually terrified of the possibilities. You don't need to tell me that next time it could be the last one, I'm perfectly aware of it. This could be the one last moment that matters and if that's the case, then I want to live it without regrets. I don't care if I'm building castles in the sand. I truly don't."
Tommy sighs dramatically and nudges his shoulder with his own.
"So, here we go again?"
Alex laughs, because it sounds like Tommy agrees for a run to the grocery shop instead of acknowledging that he's placing his life in the line of fire, all over again.
"Yeah."
"I feel a bit like a pimp just by agreeing to help you to get laid."
"She 'is' my wife and is not just a matter to get laid." It's so much more than the physical need and attraction; it might be the easiest thing to spot, but it isn't the only thing that defined what they had.
"Though, it's one of the important parts. I saw the two of you last night."
So, he lusts after his wife, anyone who has seen his wife will understand that he has more than good reasons for it.
"That's crude. Weren't you the polite one?"
"Yesterday I was tempted to activate the fire alarm of your apartment just to douse both of you."
Alex doesn't even try to hide the smirk he knows is firmly placed on his face.
"Get a girlfriend Tommy, you can't live all that pent up frustration vicariously through me."
"Eko milb anirech rag."
"Hey! How does someone go French kissing a rat?"
"Silence is golden Alex."
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Bobby stares at the blue sky that surrounds him and wonders, not for the first time, if he's in a coma at some hospital. Reality has stopped making sense and for the life of him, his dreams had never implied such production and details. The leather seat he's currently occupying is more comfortable than his couch at home and that's an issue, one should not feel so comfortable inside of a plane, hundreds of miles above the ground.
The minute Sam said that they would not need to take his truck he had felt puzzled. Later, when he was told that they would be flying and transport details had been already arranged for them once they landed in California, Bobby had raised an eyebrow and waited for the explanation.
Apparently, Sam has been given access to one of Rivers' private jets in order to move faster. Documentation explaining their weapons had been issued under their real names and Bobby felt that it might be the first time in more than twenty years he wouldn't need to use a fake ID for a case. Sam seems to be on first name basis with their pilot, most likely because he called him at midnight to arrange all the details for their unexpected trip.
"Would you like something to drink? Jules is afraid that we might be down to chocolate milk, red wine and Oreos."
"Strange combination."
"Alex and Galen use this jet most of the time."
"Ah."
"I know that look Bobby, just say it."
"Alexander Rivers, only heir of Rivers Enterprises gives you free access to his jet…"
"One of his jets. Jules said there are five, which are used mostly for the employees' trips across the country and the odd international one."
"The guy knows what your father does for a living and instead of calling the loony bin or the police, which are the things most people would have done, he goes and offers to help you out. He gives you one of his jets, he arranges real documentation for both of us, and he even organizes our mean of transport once we land in California. None of that looks suspicious to you?"
"Rich people are eccentric."
"Sam, there's quirkiness and insanity. No sane person, and he looked to me like a level-headed guy, would give you these types of resources without expecting something in return. There's something else, there has to be."
Sam knows there is, the only thing he has been asked in return is to keep himself alive, which is something he was planning to do anyway. He could tell Bobby that last night Alex Rivers had looked more vulnerable and human than in all the months he had known him. He could do it, but decides not to. The conversation was between Alex and him, and it would remain strictly between them.
"Are you telling me that in all their history hunters had never had sponsors? A bunch of friendless, aggressive and most of the time unstable people, what's not to love in that combination? "
Bobby, despite his best attempt, can't help the slight amused smile at Sam's description of most of the hunters he has met. Kill first, don't bother with questions is the motto followed by the majority, sometimes is works, sometimes it doesn't. A hunter's life doesn't have many expectations, surviving to fight another day probably ranks the highest.
"I doubt there was an association to aid the hunters, hell we don't even have a proper organization. Mobs and gangs have better administrative skills than us."
However, Sam's point reminds Bobby that he really needs to talk with Jim about that old partnership he has been told about.
"We are not spending two days on the road, not that I don't enjoy your company Bobby, but you have to admit that you like the usual accommodation even less than me. Jules told me that we'll arrive at Moffett in two hours."
"And Moffett is?"
"Private use airport. It's the closest to Palo Alto. We pick our ride and get in our merry way to Jericho."
"hmm"
"You know Bobby, I would buy that you're as upset as you say you are if you wouldn't look so damn cheerful while drinking the wine."
"It's a good wine."
"It should be, it's Italian, Masseto Toscana."
"Am I supposed to know what you are talking about?"
Sam smirks and ponders if he should tell him already that he's been drinking a wine that cost over 3K per bottle. Bobby looks relaxed and Sam thinks that considering what they would be doing in the next couple of days he deserves this time to loosen up a bit. He would tell him later, maybe tomorrow, because he's really looking for the shocked expression in Bobby's face once he learns the truth.
"Not at all, useless knowledge I picked at NY."
"Should I be worried?"
"Don't think so, but Lara is proud and maybe that should be worrying. She thinks there's hope into converting me into a civilized man."
"Now, I'm worried. You're one of the most polished people I know."
"Just be glad that I'm not a girl nor under-age. I get the impression she would try to organize my presentation in society."
"Rich people are bat crazy."
Sam can't really agree with that. He suspects the rich people he has become involved with can't be used to measure others craziness. The Rivers seems to be in a league of their own.
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Caleb is surprised when his phone starts ringing; the small screen displays an unfamiliar number. He rarely picks up calls from strangers and he's about to reject it, but in the last second his curiosity gets the better of him. He doesn't say anything and waits for the other person to say the first word.
"Caleb?"
Suddenly Caleb feels old, older than he should, because Sam's voice no longer sounds as the Sam he used to know. He's not sure what he expected, but listening to a deeper Sam's voice was certainly not something he anticipated.
"Caleb? ... Bobby can I check the number again? I think I got it wrong."
"Easy, tiger. I can hear just fine."
"Hi Caleb."
It seems Caleb is not the only one at loss at what to say. It's strange considering that he has seen Sammy Winchester grew up from chubby child into willowy teenager, from quiet son who seemed to blend in the background to rebellious one who left home going after his dream. Even if that dream had nothing to do with the family business or John's expectations.
"Hello Sam, how's life? Done anything remotely interesting beside studying?"
In all the time he has known Sam, Caleb has mastered the art of annoy the hell out of the boy to the point he thinks it's the only way they interact with each other. He saw himself as an honorary older brother who should teach Sam how to fend for himself against the world, even when Sam was a reluctant student most of the times.
"As dreadful as you could imagine Cal. I take you meant how's life besides being summoned for this hunting trip of yours?"
Well, that's certainly new. Either Stanford or wherever Sam is living these days had taught the boy sarcasm.
"Your father is missing Sammy, I think that should be reason enough."
Somehow Caleb knew the moment the words were out of his mouth that it was the wrong thing to say.
"My father went missing in Clifton, he went underground in Amherst. You didn't feel the need to go looking after him those times."
"This time is different."
"I'm done with hunting Cal. I thought my father actually came to accept that fact."
"It's not as bad as you made it look."
"I was given a .45 when I was nine, because I told him there was something scary in my closet. I could have killed myself with that thing."
"What did you expect him to do?"
He hadn't been there when it happened, though he didn't doubt Sam's version and a small part of him agreed that tossing a gun at a child like Sam was a horrible idea.
"I wasn't expecting hugs or comfort words, god knows I was never that much delusional, but handing firearms to untrained children crossed the line Caleb."
He agrees, though he would never say it out loud. He feels the need to defend John, though there's not much to say in his defense about that particular episode. Caleb goes with the other option, the default one.
"Are you going into therapy now that you're living the apple pie life?"
Silence. For a moment Caleb thinks he might have crossed the boundaries of pretend older brother.
"I don't need a shrink to know that my childhood was dreadful. Apple pie life, seriously? I would have bought the white fenced house reference."
Sam's voice is colder, not angered as Caleb expected, instead of it he sounded annoyed but holding an impressive control of it.
"Look I certainly don't need to revisit those years. We are about to leave Palo Alto and were planning to go straight to Jericho unless you want to meet with us somewhere else first."
Palo Alto? Where exactly was Sam living these days?
"There's a gas station before the exit for Centennial Highway."
"Got it. We'll see you there."
"Sam…"
"Yeah?"
"This is really important. I wouldn't have asked Bobby to get you if I could solve it on my own."
"I know. Look, we were able to share the same living space for years. Let's just aim to avoid killing each other and find him, then we can go our separate ways."
Yes, Caleb hasn't forgotten that Sam was the one who walked away from his father. He felt the rebellious high school graduate walked away from him as well, thought he pretended to be irritated on John's name, because Sam is not his brother and John is not his father.
His thoughts are straying to the chick-flick movie moment and he desperately need to put distance between the 'if's' and 'could's' and the real world where he lives every day.
"Please, I taught you everything you needed to survive in the world. You're my creation."
He could almost hear the smirk in Sam's voice.
"My skills on how to skin a rabbit are a bit rusty these days. Maybe you weren't such a great teacher."
"Can't hear you man, passing through a..tunn…el."
Caleb hears the dry laugh that he got in reply as the line gets disconnected. He hasn't seen Sam in three years and now he wonders what kind of person he has become.
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Bobby knows that Sam has definitely changed some of his habits when he watches, half amused and half annoyed, how the young man scans the convenience mart with the deadly precision of a hitman looking for something healthier than nachos for breakfast.
"Did they run out of your favourite brand of goat cheese?"
Sam gives him an exasperated look in reply.
"I was looking for some cereal bars. Are you going to sue me because I want to eat slightly healthier these days?"
"It's a convenience store Sam, just grab a sandwich."
Bobby decides to take the matter on his hands. He grabs a ham and cheese one and throws it in the general direction of Sam. If he thought that was the end of the matter, he was seriously wrong.
Sam stares at the plastic wrapping as if it is the most fascinating thing he has ever seen and pokes at it with a cautious finger. His right eyebrow rises slightly before he gives it back.
"I rather skip breakfast today. You do know that ham is not supposed to have green dots like those, right?"
"Oh for the love of…" the words died as Bobby looks closer at the sandwich in his hand and realizes that Sam is actually right. That is not a sandwich, is a food menace.
"I'm sure there's a dinner somewhere along the way."
Sam nods from the dairy section where he has settled for tiny cartoons of chocolate milk. At Bobby's dumbfounded look he simply grins.
"Chocolate milk is the only thing Michael ever remembers to buy for the apartment. I got used to it."
He nods in acceptance, the fact that Sam is comfortable sharing an apartment with an Arts major student, whom recently got out of the closet would probably give John Winchester a stroke. It's a statement of the difference between them that Sam was not even fazed.
He has nothing against Michael, the guy is pretty decent from what he had seen, and both of them keep their private lives away from each other. They seem to get along well enough to keep the conditions in good conditions.
Bobby gets a coffee that tastes nothing like coffee. He ends up throwing it in the first trash bin he finds, which happens to be just outside of the shop. Sam hands him the other chocolate milk he got with a triumphant smile. Robert Singer choose to act like the better, and older, man he is and refrains to make a comment. After the first sip from the stripped straw he admits that maybe Michael is onto something with his choice of drink.
Both of them watch in silence at the sleek black car that is approaching their current location.
Caleb has arrived.
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TBC…
AN: Constructive criticism is always welcome, leave a review and let me know what you think about the story so far.
Playlist suggested for this short chapter…
'The Writing's On The Wall', OK Go
'Champagne Supernova', Oasis
'A Dream Within a Dream', Oren Lavie
'Collect Call', Metric
