THAT SUMMER
inspired by the song "That Summer" by Garth Brooks
Ch. 9 Hot Cup of Coffee & a Smile
Disclaimer: Neither the song "That Summer" nor the movie Labyrinth are mine, and I make no money or other profit from my writing. Would I could and did, but I can't and I don't.
Rating: M for mature themes & sometimes explicit scenes including, but not limited to, death, drugs/alcohol, abuse, and sex. If you can't handle these things, leave now.
A/N: My apologies for the extended wait. BTW, Reunion is started, but I have discovered it will take considerably more effort to write that fic than originally thought. And it will require serious dedication - none of the pick-up-put-down that I've needed for the last while. So, yes, I still plan to write it, just as I plan to continue all of the fics I've got in progress now…but it takes time. Thank you for your patience!
A/N 2: *text* indicates a language shift from English to the native Blackfoot language. Any and all details regarding Blackfoot traditions, etc., are vaguely researched and draw from generalities only. Any and all mistakes are mine.
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Afternoon was here, and it was time to go. The entire day had dragged by with excruciating slowness. Waiting was a tedious game, even when - or perhaps especially when - accompanying long, hot hours of manual labor. Sarah enjoyed the work, but she had been worrying for the past few days. Doc had a preliminary diagnosis, but he'd stalled, insisting on waiting for the full report to come in. So she waited. And worried.
Today, though, today she would get the results she needed. And a trip to town with Jareth. If she managed just right, she'd get her hands on those two scheming vultures who'd sent her to Jareth's with more lingerie and flimsy nighties than Fredrick's of Hollywood.
In retrospect, she wasn't really that angry with them. She wasn't exactly horrible to look at - she'd always known that, even though she wouldn't call herself beautiful - and she was young. That alone was enough to make the old biddies hope. She was a little disappointed, especially after all the information Gracie had given her about the town and the attitude that, supposedly, everyone shared. They wanted Jareth to have a kid, and she seemed like a possible mate for him. If it weren't so sweet, their affection for the Kings, she would still be angry. She still wasn't keeping any of it. Not with a pending report from Doc.
Even practicing guitar and watching Warlock prance around wasn't keeping that feeling of doom from creeping up on her. Practicing roping was never less than a disaster, so thinking about that only made things worse. The trip to town was long enough, and Jareth was driving.
She glanced over to the driver's side of the truck and couldn't help but smile. She'd gotten used to Jareth in jeans and a Western shirt, boots and hat. But driving?
"What are you smirking about?" came the curious question.
"You. Driving." She giggled. "It's just so…wrong."
"I assure you, my driving is excellent," Jareth replied primly. Sarah only laughed harder.
"Yeah, but you're you, and you're driving." She tried not to giggle again, and it worked, for the most part.
"Amazing. Two blindingly obvious statements that are somehow expected to convey a sense of wonder at a seemingly incomprehensible event." He looked over at her. "Your grandparents weren't more than a twinkle in their parents' eyes when I began driving these contraptions, young lady. Hell, I even designed a few cars for…" He stopped, seeing her eyes nearly bulge out of her head and her jaw drop. "Well, you try and figure it out."
"Seriously?" Sarah yelped. "You designed cars?"
"And built the prototypes. From the engines out," he confirmed, smiling a bit. Sarah blinked several times, trying to take it in. "Now, does my driving still disturb you that much?"
"No," Sarah managed. "But I think my view of the world just got a little twisted."
"Enlighten me," Jareth said, stifiling a sigh.
"It's kinda hard to explain. I work with you, I see you cooking and cleaning and playing Karia, and - and all sorts of things. But the vision of you in front of a car with a wrench in your hand and grease under your nails, with the hood up…it's just…it's like the first time I saw the Fieries. Weird."
"Lovely. I'm now on par with a group of beings that routinely dismember themselves and play with the pieces." His voice was dry enough to carry a warning about open flame.
"I didn't mean it like that," she protested.
Jareth flashed her a grin. "I know. Still. Work on those similes, will you?"
"Jerk," she said, smiling at him in return. Jareth only chuckled.
Several quiet miles later, Jareth broke the silence.
"Sarah, would you like to see Doc while I take care of a few things in town? It isn't that I want to leave you alone for the news, but this will allow more privacy than if I join you. Doc's office is very small, only two rooms. The walls are…thin."
Sarah looked out her window, thinking. She wanted Jareth nearby, but she didn't want him to hear the news until she had time to digest it. Even if that was only a few minutes.
"I…think I'd like to talk with Doc alone first." She looked at him and gave him a weak smile. She managed that, at least. "I'd also like to join you on the errands you had, but…I kinda need to hear this first."
"I understand." Jareth flipped his turn signal on and cut across the deserted road. "Doc's office is here, just across from the old Parkins homestead. He's close to town, but not in town. I've never asked why." That last was a warning. Sarah didn't need any more information. Neither did Jareth. He pulled in to the gravel lot and stopped next to the door. Sarah didn't get out.
"I'm scared, Jareth," she finally said, unable to look at him, unable to get out of the truck. Jareth just waited. "There are so many things…"
"I know," Jareth replied in the voice she'd heard him use with Warlock and Ebony. He was soothing her like he did with them. She wasn't sure if that made it better or worse.
TS*=-*=-*=-TS
Earlier that afternoon…
Doc hung up the phone and shook his head. The news wasn't good.
Despite his original belief that Sarah was not in danger of a debilitating disease, she was. So far, her body had fought it off, but there was no denying it. He'd run the test twice and then sent it to the nearest hospital for confirmation.
The phone rang. He lifted the receiver to his ear, hoping to hear good news. They'd mixed the blood samples. There was a malfunction that produced many false positives and they needed a retest batch. The lab tech was hallucinating.
"Hello, Grandfather," came the cheerful young voice. Young was relative. All of his grandchildren were in their twenties.
"Hello yourself, *little one*." He was determined to be pleasant.
"Grandma has been asking for you. It's time for you to come home." So much for the pleasantness.
"Put your grandmother on the phone, Tyler."
"She's busy - "
"No, grandson. You will give the receiver to her now. No arguments." The authoritarian tone was at odds with the usual warmth of his voice and personality. A shuffling noise sounded in from the handset and he stifled a sigh. When would they learn?
"Eli?" he heard. Her voice wasn't as smooth as it had been. There was an old woman's reediness to it now, but the timbre still warmed his heart. She was kind enough to use the name he preferred while he was away. But then, that was her way.
"Good evening, Ana," he said, using his pet name for her. She responded as she always had, with a soft "phst" of annoyance. By now, it was an old and much appreciated joke between them. "I know you haven't been asking for me. You use the phone when you want. What is it that they want now?"
"For you to move back to the reservation. They are children, *husband*. So young. They don't understand how you can stay so far from us." Her voice was soft and filled with understanding. Of all people, she would understand, even better than he did.
"I will be there this weekend," he finally said, his voice soft. "I will tell them then. Will you be there?"
"Of course," she replied with a soft laugh. "I have always been here."
"And I have appreciated that for longer than even I knew," he assured her. "They may not speak to me after the telling."
"I will handle any of their nonsense." With the hint of steel in her voice, he knew she would.
"*Farewell, wife*."
"*Farewell, husband*."
Doc hung up and his other hand dug into the bottom desk drawer, pulling out a bottle and a glass. Without realizing it, he set the bottle on the desk and the glass was suddenly beside it.
Doc stared at his demon. The thirst came to him again. He thought of his wife, of the misery he'd given her. Of his children. Of the only solution that had let him conquer the aching need for the bite and oblivion of the whiskey. Hands trembled on the old desk Nurse Highhorse made him keep.
They wanted him back. If they knew what he had done while he lived with his wife, surrounded by the seeming hopelessness of the reservation - hopelessness that he had once believed in more than his religion - they would never see him again, no matter what tribal law and tradition required in the way of rational discussion and understanding.
In two days, they would know. The thirst, the craving for sweet oblivion called to him like one of the white man's sirens. Through sheer will, he managed to put the glass and bottle back in the bottom drawer, unopened.
Forty-two years since his last drink. From that same bottle. Forty-two years, six months, and eighteen days.
Doc slid the drawer closed and found he could breathe again. His hands were steady once more. The thirst was still there, but he could deny it now.
He had to. He had to talk to the Old One and Sarah. His demon bottle would still be there when he returned.
He would fight another day.
TS*=-*=-*=-TS
In front of Doc's office, that afternoon…
Sarah opened the door of the truck and managed to put one foot on the ground. She took a deep breath and slid out of the cab. She stood and turned to close the door when Jareth reached over and took her hand.
"If you need me, you need only say my name. I will hear." There was something in his voice, in the eyes that were shadowed by his customary Stetson that made her throat close and her eyes tear up. She could only nod. He squeezed her hand once, then let go.
Sarah stepped back and closed the door of the cab. With a resolute turn, she walked to the door of Doc's office, which also seemed to be part of his house, or near it. She was too nervous to realize it, but Jareth waited until she was inside before he put the truck in gear and drove away.
"Sarah?" Doc said, meeting her in the waiting room. In reality, it was both his office and the area patients came in, but he always thought of it as the waiting room. "I was going over tonight…" He stopped when he saw her face.
Sarah was terrified. She hadn't been able to wait any longer, and Jareth had mentioned that he would bring her into town sooner or later. He had hoped for later.
"I…couldn't wait. Ja-ay had mercy on me. If it's okay?" She could hear the worry, the fear in her own voice and wanted to apologize for being such a whimp, but she barely got that out.
"Of course," Doc said, his voice softer than she'd heard. "Come with me. More privacy in the exam room."
Nodding, Sarah followed. She wanted to turn and run. To beg him just to tell Jareth and never let her know. But she couldn't. She'd been running for so long, it had become her default response to unpleasantness, potential or real. It had taken seeing Jareth again to remember she was stronger than that. Wasn't she? Yes. Yes, she was strong enough to stand on her own, at least here with Doc.
The room was much like every other doctor's exam room she'd been in, but earthier, with traces of Doc's ancestry here and there around the room. It suited him well. She sat down on the chair and watched as he picked up a file and sat next to her.
"Sarah, I will not lie to you. The news could be better. It could also be much, much worse. You have the cold sores - Herpes Simplex II - and tests confirmed genital warts. Neither of those are curable with our medicines." He paused. "There is one more thing. You tested positive for syphilis. We can treat this, but it will never 'go away' permanently. The symptoms and progression can be halted, but it's entirely possible that you will remain contagious - with our medicines. Other than those three things, dehydration, and malnutrition this past year, you are in good health…"
The room didn't have enough air. Doc was still talking, something about good health and treatable, be careful when, and she was sick. It wasn't the worst possible news, but it was bad enough. Having children wasn't really an option now. Between getting pregnant and delivering a child, she'd most likely infect at least one other person, possible two. And syphilis never really went away. It could go dormant, but that was all. Images of her life from that moment on spun out before her - the only constant was shame as she faced and lost men who could love her. Loneliness and uncertainty. There were some risks she could never ask anyone to take for her. And she wouldn't. Never. Not once.
"Sarah? Sarah?"
She turned and looked at Doc, eyes huge. She didn't even realize she was shaking.
"This was too much, too quickly," Doc said, regret in his voice. "I should have spoken more gently - "
"No!" Sarah blurted, shaking her head. "No. This…I know now. I know. And…I can tell…and whatever we can do to treat…we should."
Doc watched her carefully. She had no idea what he was seeing, but it couldn't be good. She forced herself to sit up straight and lift her chin. This was far from the worst situation she'd been in, and Doc cared, if only because she was his patient.
I have been to the castle at the heart of the labyrinth, she told herself, and I have faced many fears, including the Hall of Illusions. I have the strength to do this. I will do this. Because I will it.
"Thank you, Doc," she said, more calmly now. "Don't worry about telling Jay. I'll tell him myself, when he gets back." She licked her lips. "What are the treatment options available?"
Doc smiled, no little impressed with the way she had pulled together so quickly. He didn't tell her he'd already reviewed everything about treatment, that she hadn't heard him. Instead, he quietly repeated the options, seeing her grey eyes thoughtful and intent.
This one, yes, she would survive. She would heal. He whispered a prayer that she would one day be appreciated for all that she was - and all she would become.
TS***TS
Jareth picked Sarah up close to dinner time, but, at her request, didn't head straight back to the ranch.
"Can we eat dinner in town?" she asked, voice subdued and no little stressed.
"Of course." He didn't press for information. Instead, he drove to the diner where Sarah had eaten while Jane and Gracie filled her head with information.
The ride was quiet, Sarah unwilling to break the silence, thoughts of what to say and how to say it running through her head. Jareth, well, who knew his reasons for silence? Sarah didn't, and she didn't ask for an explanation, either.
They pulled up in front of the diner, Jareth turning to park in the little lot that was mostly full this time of day. He turned off the ignition and reached for his door handle.
"Jareth, I need to tell you…what Doc had to say," Sarah said, voice brittle. It matched the way she felt.
"Very well," Jareth replied, and waited.
"It wasn't good, but it could've been a lot worse. I…have three…STDs," she glanced at him, barreled on, "sexually transmitted diseases. Two aren't horrible, but they're not good, either. One…could be bad. Cold sores - Herpes Simplex II - is incurable, but not a huge deal. I'll just get a sore on my lip every so often, and it'll hurt, but it will go away with a topical ointment. I also have genital warts - which are gross, but not…too horrible, comparatively. And…and I have syphilis. As in, the go blind and crazy and get covered with oozing sores disease." She took a breath.
"Syphilis is incurable as well," Jareth said softly.
"But it can be…contained. Become asymptomatic. Almost disappear," she whispered, hope moving away as she spoke.
Jareth was quiet for a long moment.
"Sarah, I do not lightly allow people to cross from this realm to my own, or vice-versa, but I will send for a healer tomorrow." Sarah turned and stared at him. "While I cannot guarantee anything, it is possible that…the magic at my command could help you."
"But…I rejected your power over me," Sarah said, confused.
Jareth gave her a gentle smile and waited. He didn't have to wait long.
"And I work for you. Voluntarily. I went to you, not the other way around." Sarah looked at him for a long moment, then smiled. "So the magic does work on me now." She looked down and shook her head. "But only after I started working for you, right?"
Jareth smiled at her in return. "Exactly."
"I'm catching on, Boss," she said, voice losing tension, her smile becoming real again.
Jareth laughed softly and nodded. "That you are. Now, let's get dinner."
"And coffee," Sarah said, a little bit of the weight that had settled on her lifting now that she understood that hope did exist for her.
"Of course," Jareth said, insulted. "You would order something else?"
Sarah laughed.
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