Hello again! Sorry I left it so long but, hey, it's here now. I hope you guys like – if I haven't lost you to the wait!
Please review.
OldFriends
"Is this Miss Lydia Denson speaking?" the voice on the other end asked.
Lydia gripped the phone harder, "yes, this is Lydia Denson."
"I'm Nurse Goodwood from County General Hospital in Boston. You are the registered contact for a Mr Anthony Abernathy."
"Oh my god," Lydia cried. "Tony! Is he okay? What happened?!"
"Mr Abernathy was attacked outside his bar a couple of night ago. He suffered some head injuries, several cracked ribs, a dislocated shoulder and a broken leg." The voice on the other end remained professionally dispassionate as she reduced Lydia to a quivering mass.
Jesus Christ, Lydia thought, the blood draining from her face. "Is he going to be okay?"
"Mr Abernathy is conscious and stable," the Nurse confirmed. Lydia felt giddy with relief. "He is being kept in for a few days, mostly as a precaution until his head injuries heal." Lydia was nodding through the whole speech, even though the Nurse could not see her.
"Okay, so, when can I see him?"
"He's been asking for you for a few days. The doctors wanted to wait until he was moved out of CCU, which happened to be today. He's in a regular ward now and you can visit when you like."
"Okay, I live in Detroit now, so it'll take me a few days to get there. Can you tell him I'll be there as soon as I can?"
"Certainly."
"Thank you, and thank you for calling."
"Goodbye, Miss Denson."
"Goodbye," Lydia hung up.
Bobby walked in to see an ashen-faced, trembling Lydia leaning against the wall for support. With a yell, he raced to her side and pulled her into a chair. He took a seat next to her, his arms still half around her. "What happened, Dee? What's wrong? Is it the babies? Do we need to go to hospital?" His hands fluttered over her as though he was unsure of where to put them, not wanting to hurt her more. In the end, they finished where they had started, one around her shoulders, the other hand covering hers, which were clasped together on the tabletop.
"No, I'm okay. We're okay." Lydia's voice was dull, lifeless and that scared Bobby more that if she had said she needed a doctor.
"So, what? What happened?"
"A nurse just called from a hospital in Boston. Tony got attacked; he's hurt pretty bad. I'm the contact so they called me. I have to go see him, Bobby." Lydia tried to get up but Booby pushed her back into her seat.
"Lydia, wait." She looked like she was going to protest, but Bobby gave her a look that had her closing her mouth again. "I know Tony means a lot to you, but you're not driving across the country, half-cocked in the state you're in. Just calm down and lets work this through together."
"But Tony -" Lydia half-yelled.
"-will still be there in a few days. Especially if his injuries are bad enough to get you into such a mess." Bobby thought about Tony – it was odd that a guy that size provoked such a maternal reaction in Lydia, but then again, she did seem to attract the messed up tough guys of the world.
Tears ran down Lydia's cheeks as she thought of Tony, beat up and lying in a hospital bed all alone. "I have to get to him, Bobby. He's family."
She did not have to explain family to Bobby; he knew that family did not end with blood and was well versed in the lengths people would go to to protect those they cared about.
"Okay, grab a bag; pack enough clothes for a week. Tell your doctor we're going to Boston but you'll be back in time for your appointment." Bobby let her go so she could stand, but she stayed seated, looking at him. It made him kind of uncomfortable.
"We?" she asked.
"You didn't think I was going to let you drive yourself, did you? Being seven months pregnant and all." Lydia shrugged and Bobby rolled his eyes. "I think all that amniotic fluid's gone to your brain."
Lydia grinned and threw herself into a hug that knocked the wind out of Bobby, who took a substantial baby belly to the gut – that thing was surprisingly hard. "Thank you, Bobby!"
"Yeah, yeah, don't go chucking yourself around like that – you'll make the babies sick." Bobby disentangled himself and looked at her. Her eyes were shining bright with happiness now and all Bobby could think was, 'Jesus, Jack, if you could see her now...'
Lydia went upstairs to pack her things while Bobby called Jerry and Angel to tell them what was going on. Angel agreed to come over and check the place while they were gone. Then he headed upstairs, forced Lydia to not carry the over-packed bag down the stairs herself and ordered her to call her doctor. Then he grabbed a quick shower and change of clothes since he had come in straight from work, packed a few things and headed downstairs. Jerry had said he would open and close the garage for Bobby and tell the staff what was going on on Monday. It was Friday night so Bobby decided to keep the garage closed over the weekend, something he had not done since opening the place.
Lydia was on the sofa when he brought the bags down, but she was bouncing in her seat, impatient to start. She had dinner in Tupperware boxes in a bag, a fact for which Bobby was grateful; he had skipped lunch to work on a Buick that was giving them some trouble and so was starving.
Lydia insisted on carrying the food bag while he shouldered the duffels and put them in the trunk.
It was April now so the weather was warming up, though they were still subject to cold days. Knowing Boston would be similar, they had both decided to go for lots of thinner layers rather than fewer, bulky ones. It seemed like a good decision as they were both pulling of the top layer by the time they hit the freeway.
For the most part it was a quiet trip. Neither Bobby nor Lydia had the compulsion to talk like some people did and they had pretty similar tastes in music so there were no fights over the radio. Bobby did most of the driving, staring out of the windshield with Lydia in his peripherals, stroking the bump. Once, the babies started kicking with gusto. Lydia cried out and grabbed his hand. Trying not to crash, it took Bobby a couple of minutes before he registered the gentle bumping against his hand. He looked over at Lydia, intending to berate her for nearly causing an accident but the look on her face made him stop.
She looked in awe at her belly. Turning to look at Bobby he saw intense love that made his breath stick in his throat. But it was the tears that made him ache, the tears made because of the underlying pain he saw in her glistening eyes – Jack would never feel this.
His heart thumped miserably in his chest and despite the recent revelations, he felt guilt claw at him, that he was the one sat here, that it was his hand on Lydia's belly, feeling those babies move. That it was Jack rotting six feet under in a cemetery in Detroit.
They did not say anything – what was there that they could say? – but drove on, Bobby's hand on Lydia's bump, her hands covering his until she fell asleep. Her hands slipped from his and it felt cold without them there. Bobby took his hand away and flexed his fingers before putting his hand on the steering wheel once more. Lydia hands fluttered as though, even in sleep, she sensed the loss of contact. But the slumbering woman's hand merely rested once more on her belly and she fell deeper into sleep.
Bobby kept driving and did not look at her again all night.
In the morning, they switched places and Lydia drove while Bobby slept. They made excellent time and where at the hospital much sooner than expected.
"I'm here to see Anthony Abernathy," Lydia said to the receptionist.
Professional as ever, the receptionist did not bat an eyelid at the arrival of a harried, very pregnant young woman, trailing scarves with her coat hanging off one shoulder. Bobby came up behind her and tried to fix Lydia up before she fell over them, dragging the coat over her shoulder before she could get cold. "Mr Abernathy is in the ward on the third floor – Room 308."
"Thank you," Lydia took one step and grabbed the reception desk for support – her head was swimming. She put her hand to her chest, feeling slightly nauseous. Bobby was by her side in a flash, holding her up. "Woo, not good."
"Not good? What's not good?" Bobby said. The cocky exterior slipped and he was a little frantic. The receptionist was hit by a strictly non-professional interest. Then realised he was holding up his pregnant girlfriend and looked away in disappointment.
"I feel a little woozy, that's all," Lydia said. She took a deep breath and straightened up. "I'm good. I want to see Tony."
"Maybe we should see a doctor, just for a minute, since we're in a hospital already," Bobby said.
"There's no need, Bobby, I'm fine. It was just the last couple of days that's all. I haven't eaten yet."
"I'll get you something to eat while you see a doctor."
"I don't want to see a doctor!" Lydia snapped.
"I don't care! We're going, come on!" Bobby started to pull her away then stopped dead. Wheeling back to the desk he asked the receptionist, "where is the maternity ward?"
"Fourth floor, west wing. Room 467."
"Thanks," Bobby took her hand and pulled Lydia to the elevators. "You okay?" he asked when the door slid closed – they were alone in the elevator so she would not get pissy about him 'fussing' in public.
"I'm fine," Lydia said shortly. Her hand rubbed her belly gently. "I'm seven months pregnant, it's not easy to travel this pregnant."
"Fucking hell, Dee! You should have told me! Did the doctor say it was alright for you to drive all this way?"
"Yes, he did! Did you really think I would do this if he didn't?" Lydia demanded, glaring at him.
"No," Bobby said grudgingly. "You're not that stupid."
"Gee, thanks."
"You're seeing the doctor."
"No, I'm not. I'm seeing Tony first."
"You're going even if I have to knock you out and carry you."
"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to threat pregnant women with bodily harm?"
Bobby shrugged. "My mother did the best she could, doesn't mean it worked all the time."
Lydia leant again the wall and folded her arms. "It worked better than you think. You're a saint compared to what you could have been."
"Gee, thanks," Bobby tossed back at her. Lydia smiled at him, looking tired. Until the elevator doors slid open and she saw the sign for the maternity ward. Then she glared.
"I'm going to see Tony," she said stubbornly.
"Tony would tell you the same thing that I would – that you need to take care of those babies before him."
"I take care of my kids just fine!"
"Yes, you do. So keep at." He took her hand and towed her to the ward desk. "She's seven months pregnant and felt dizzy and sick." The ward sister was not impressed. "Last night she got some bad news and fainted. We just want to make sure everything is okay."
"Follow me," she got up and led them to a free examination room.
Lydia put her hand on Bobby's chest. "You're not coming in here."
"Why not?" Bobby said, confused.
"There's probably going to be a lack of underwear in the room so why don't you take a seat over there?"
"Got you." Bobby took a seat, picked up a magazine and attempted to avoid the come hither look of the eight months pregnant woman next to him.
His ass had just fallen asleep when Lydia finally came out with the nurse. "It will all be fine," the nurse was assuring her, one hand on her arm. "Just try and stay calm and you should be okay. If there are any other problems – light headedness, dizzy spells – go see your doctor."
"Okay, thank you."
Bobby stood up, rubbing his ass. "So, what's up?"
"My stress levels are a little high. Stress can lead to toxaemia which can be dangerous to the babies. Restricted blood flow, restricted oxygen."
"Sooo, it was a good idea that you see a doctor today?" Bobby said.
"Yes," Lydia said, rolling her eyes at Bobby's smugness. "It was a good idea. Now let's go see Tony."
Tony was sat in bed eating Jell-O, bandaged up like a mummy. Lydia gave a cry and threw herself down the ward corridor into Tony. "Oof, Christ, Dee, I'm losing my Jell-O!"
"Lovely to see you, too, you big lug," Lydia said, wiping her eyes.
"Good Lord, are you crying?" Tony had never seen Lydia cry – by the time she came back to Boston she had kind of pretty much almost managed to start to deal with Jack's death.
"Crying, fainting, eating my weight in chocolate and tuna paste sandwiches – I do a lot of things I never used to," Lydia said.
"Chocolate and tuna?" Tony said, his face wrinkled in disgust.
"Yep. I really want one now actually," Lydia said, biting her lip.
"You sit and I'll get you something," Bobby said, getting a chair to put it by the bed and pushing Lydia into it.
"Ooh, can I have, now let me think, could you get some Italian? I mean real Italian? Or would something small be better until we have dinner?"
"It's four o'clock, you've been driving and you haven't eaten since last night. I'm getting you something big."
"Okay, money's in my – "
"I got it," Bobby said, walking away without touching Lydia's purse.
"He taking care of you?" Tony asked as the ward doors swung shut after Bobby.
"Yeah, he is. Bobby's been real good to us," Lydia nodded.
"Us?"
"Yeah, the three of us," Lydia said, patting her bump.
"Three," Tony shook his head. "I still can't get my head around the face that the whippet's got two other people living inside her."
"You think it's easy for me? I live with them and I still find it hard to believe."
"So, how you doing, kid?" Tony asked, patting the hand that was next to him on the bed.
"I'm doing okay. I'm living with Bobby and that's good. There's just about enough room for him and me and the babies. Don't know what we're going to do when they're older and they want their own rooms though – there are only three bedrooms in the house."
"So, you and Bobby aren't together...like that?" Tony thought he should check – three months could change a lot of things. Lydia should know that best of all.
"No, we're not. He's been awesome – the best friend big brother bodyguard guy I could have asked for."
"But no sparks?"
"Plenty of sparks but none of the romantic kind," Lydia said, thinking about all the arguments the two of them had on a day to day basis.
"I'm sorry."
"I'm not. Bobby's great and I wouldn't want to lose him as my family because we messed it up with sex."
"And what does he think?"
"He gets food from me and sex from whatever other woman he wants to – isn't that every man's fantasy?"
Tony laughed then clutched at his broken ribs, waving Lydia away when she reached for him. "I'm fine, I'm fine." He took a breath. "So, what about the other two?"
"Yeah, Jerry and Ang are okay. Ang and Sofi moved out so we could have a nursery for the babies."
"Hey, that was good of them."
"Yeah, yeah, it was." Lydia nodded.
"What's wrong, kid?" Tony looked at her with a no nonsense look in his eye. Something was off, he knew it. He knew her.
"Nothing." She looked at her fingers twisting in her lap.
"Dee."
"I don't know. I'm up, I'm down, I'm every frigging which way at the moment."
"Why?"
Lydia looked up at him, fresh tears brimming in her eyes. "I miss Jack. God, it's like every moment is...incomplete somehow. Everyone is there and they are all being so wonderful to me. But Jack isn't there. He's not there when the babies kick. I never got to tell him he's having a son and a daughter. I know we weren't together long but I did love him."
"I know, kid. I knew it the first time you two saw each other. That's why I didn't like him."
"I thought you didn't like him 'cause he set fire to the fire and punched a cop in the restroom."
Tony shrugged then wished he had not. "Well, the first is true. The second...I had always wanted to hit that guy. He was a prick."
"Oh. So, why didn't you like Jack?"
"Because I knew his type. Messed up musician. Nice kid but not enough self-worth to stick around."
"Jack would have stuck around for his kids."
"You and I both know he would have thought they were better off without him."
"Then maybe we should have known him better."
"Jack was a man who spent every day being eaten alive by his demons."
"He would have loved them."
"Yes he did."
"But he didn't love me."
And finally we get to the real reason she is messed up. "Yes he did."
Lydia's eyes widened. "What?"
"Yes, he did," Tony said more slowly. "Jack loved you. Jack loved you from the moment he saw you dancing to his music behind the bar. Why do you think he had so many drinks that night?"
"Because he's a musician."
"Dee, he was a musician. In a broke band. That stayed in one place, played mainly in one, not well known musically, bar for five months. There are no the actions of a band trying to get a record deal. He loved you, kid. He stayed for you. So you could be together."
Lydia shook her head. "I don't know. It just doesn't...I can't process this." She covered her eyes with her hand. "How do you even know all this?"
"Jack told me." Tony hoped Lydia would not hit a man lying in a hospital bed. He knew he should have told her before but he honestly had not wanted to. He had thought about phoning her but he had not heard from her that often and every time he did it sounded like she was coping. He had been selfish, not wanting to be the one to break her heart all over again.
"What?" Lydia's hand came down and she looked disbelieving. Then pissed. "What do you mean he told you?"
"After a show one night, couple of days before he went home. He got drunk, started talking to me while you were still working the bar. He was talking about his family, asking whether I thought you would come to Detroit to meet his mother. I told him I didn't know. He told me that he had called Evelyn the night before, talking about you. He said he loved you."
"He never told me."
"Did you tell him that you loved him?"
"No," Lydia said.
"Why not?" Tony asked, trying to get her to understand.
"I don't know. Scared, I guess. That he wouldn't say it back. That he would say it back and suddenly I wouldn't be able to pretend it was just me and him messing around anymore. It would be a 'we' and that was terrifying to me."
"Maybe Jack felt the same way. Although, if he was talking to his mama about you I'm guessing he was going to fuck his fear and tell you anyway."
Tears trailed down Lydia's face. "He wanted me to meet Evelyn?"
"Yes he did."
"I would have liked to meet her. She sounded like an awesome lady."
"According to Jack, she was quite a bit like you – tough, but loving, too. Scary at times, but with her heart in the right place." Tony smiled, as he had done when Jack had drunkenly slurred the comparison at him, half lying on the bar.
"I didn't save kids from care. I didn't do anything with my life but serve drinks to bums and alcoholics."
"You're about to have two babies and take care of them. That's the most important thing you can do – you can stop your babies going into care in the first place, Dee. Not everyone is a hero; some are just good people."
Lydia nodded. Tony took her hand and squeezed it. She gave him a watery smile and laughed. "Bet you never thought that you would see the day I got huge and teary over a guy, huh?"
"No," Tony smiled. "But I hoped. You were always too precious to waste your life being eye candy to a bunch of drunks."
Lydia did not know what to say. No one had ever said something so nice to her before. The lump in her throat hurt but she spoke anyway. "Thank you, Tony," she said thickly. "Thank you for telling me he loved me."
Tony shrugged. "You would have figured it out sooner or later – you're a smart girl."
Lydia laughed and sniffed, wiping the tears away. She was quiet for a moment, looking down at the hand she was holding. "I think he was going to tell me. There was this phone call and he started to say something but he stopped. I wanted so badly for him to say he loved me."
"Would you have said it back?"
"In a heartbeat." Lydia sniffed again. "Maybe I should have just said it. Called him up like I wanted to, just to tell him."
"He would have liked that, I bet," Tony said.
"Would it have stopped him being part of that fight?" Lydia wondered aloud. "Would it have changed his actions in anyway?"
"Don't do this to yourself, Dee," Tony said gently. "You won't ever know and you'll only torture yourself. It probably wouldn't have saved Jack."
"What probably wouldn't have saved Jack?" came a hard voice. It was Bobby. He was back, food in a carton under one arm.
Lydia jumped. "You're back."
"Yeah. There wasn't any decent Italian so I got you Chinese. Had to sneak it past the receptionist downstairs – she's a frigging dragon." He gave Lydia the food but there was a coldness in his eyes that had never been there before. A thrill ran down Lydia spine and she could understand why people were so afraid of Bobby. "So, what wouldn't have save Jack?"
Lydia debated not telling him but chickened out. "Me telling him that I loved him."
Bobby sighed. At least it cleared up one thing that had been bothering him – the question of whether Lydia had cared for Jack the way he deserved. He sat on the end of the bed, feeling old. "It wouldn't have saved him, Dee. Jack died, running out of the house after a guy that called Mom a whore. He didn't have a gun with him and got blown away. Jack was always impulsive. In that moment he had nothing on his mind but going after the guy that insulted Mom. Even you being there wouldn't have saved him. I was there and I didn't save him." The pain hit Bobby full force and he had a hard time not breaking down in that ward full of people. "My baby brother, dead because I wasn't paying attention. I got distracted and it got him killed."
"It wasn't your fault, Bobby," Lydia said gently.
"So, everyone keeps telling me. But I'm the eldest. I'm meant to protect my family when no one else can. That's my job. I got sloppy. We were apart for six years and I got sloppy. Not used to looking after anyone but myself. Jacky's dead. I'll never see my brother again. I let him down. I let Mom down." The tears burned Bobby's eyes and he was glad that his hair was falling in front of his face, hiding his shame.
"Bobby?" Lydia's voice was soft but Bobby did not look up. "Bobby, look at me." He felt one hand on his shoulder the other on his chin trying to turn his face up to look at her. He resisted but Lydia would not be denied. He looked at her, tears evident but not falling – it was the most vulnerable Bobby had ever been with another person. "Bobby, you didn't let anyone down. You said it yourself Jack was impulsive. He would have gone after those guys. It's one of the things I loved about him – he was wild and crazy but he never backed down from a fight. He always looked after the people he cared about. He said you taught him that."
Bobby wrenched himself away to stand by the window, collecting himself. He waited until the view outside was no longer blurry. "Jack was a good kid. He would have been a good father."
"We were just discussing whether he would have stuck around," Tony said.
"He would have stuck around. It would have taken him a while to figure out he was what they needed but he would have done it. He always like kids," Bobby said smiling. "He was great with Jerry's kids. And the kids Mom brought home? They always seem to get pulled to him like gravity. He could calm them down when no one else could. He had this fucking insane imagination – he would tell them all these stories and they would sit there worshipping the guy. It always made Mom smile."
"What stories did he tell?" Lydia asked, standing at the foot of the bed where Bobby had pulled away from her, staring at his back.
"Some he made up, some where the fairy tales everyone knows but messed up, you know? Messed around so it wasn't the perfect princess ridden off with the charming prince. It was kids like we had been, kids with nothing finding homes and people that cared. Kids like us not being hurt anymore."
"Sounds like a damn good story," Lydia said.
"Yeah. And they always ended up with brothers," Bobby gave a short bark of a laugh. "Always three older brothers, one was calm, one a ladies' man. And one that always seemed to save the day." Glad no one could see him, Bobby smiled. The tears came, but so did the joy.
"You were his hero, Bobby," Lydia told him. "Out of all of your family, you were the one I heard the most about. The immoveable Michigan Mauler. Scary and fierce, the toughest guy Jack knew. And the best. He wanted to be just like you."
"He was so much better than me," Bobby said, his voice breaking a little. "He was smart and creative and he could have been anything. But the world fucked him up."
"And you held him together, long enough for him to learn how to do it himself. You're the reason Jack lived as long as he did, Bobby, not the reason he died."
Part of Bobby wished Lydia would stop talking – he was not strong enough to handle much more. The other part of him wanted her to keep talking, keep telling him how it was not his fault, that he did right by Jack.
"He loved you, Bobby. At the end of it, you were the one he wanted." It hurt Lydia to hear – it had hurt to hear when Sofi had told her about Jack dying in the snow, on the sidewalk outside his house. "Not me or Evelyn. At the end, he was reaching for you."
"I was with him."
"So were Ang and Jerry."
"But I was the eldest. I was the one that had always saved him before." He felt hands on his arms and looked over his shoulder.
"I'm too big to hug you. You're gonna have to help me out here," Lydia told him.
Bobby smiled but gathered her up, bump and all, into a bear hug.
Tony sat there, eyeing the carton of Chinese hoping it would not spill because he was not fast enough to catch it. Not without pulling out stitches and aggravating a lot of already abused bone and muscle. His little Dee and grown up since he last saw her. And that Bobby? Turned out even maulers had hearts.
They spent the rest of the day at the hospital, thankfully emotion-wrenching free, Bobby making Lydia eat whenever he could, them all making plans for what to do when Tony got out of hospital.
"I'll stay at Tony's until he's out of hospital and then I can take care of him," Lydia said, feeling it was pretty sensible.
Bobby, evidently, did not. "You're not staying here alone. You're coming home with me. We can come back when Tony is out of hospital."
"I'll be too big by then. The doctor won't let me travel."
"I'll be fine on my own," Tony grumbled. For god's sake, he was a thirty-nine year old man!
"No, I want you with me while you heal. You need help."
"We can't re-camp everyone to Boston, Dee!" Bobby said. "Tony will have to stay with us. We can put you on the sofa – you won't make it up the stairs in your condition."
"I don't need all this," Tony said.
"Shush!" they both hissed at him. He contemplated folding his arms and sulking but the movement was difficult.
"I'm not leaving him here!" Lydia hissed.
"He's a grown man!" Bobby hissed back.
"I'm not leaving for a while!" Tony butted in.
"They said you would be released in a few days!" Lydia exclaimed.
"Well, that may not be true," Tony hedged.
Lydia glared and Bobby was amused to see the huge man actually shift nervously at the sight of her flashing eyes.
"The doctor came to see me – he wants to keep me in for another two weeks, just to be sure everything is healing right."
"Two weeks!" Lydia shrieked, her high pitched tone attracting the attention of everyone in a ten metre radius. "I'll be eight months pregnant by then! I won't be able to leave!"
"Then don't," Tony grumbled. He loved Dee but he was tired and he needed more pain medication. He pushed the button by his bed and the nurse arrived with a fresh needle which she injected into his IV drip. His eyes started to get heavy and he lay back on his pillows, sleepy.
"We'll get this figured out, Tony, don't worry," Bobby said, putting a hand on the bartender's uninjured shoulder.
"I'll see you soon, Tony, okay?" Lydia said close to his eye. "Even if I got two newborn babies screaming in my arms. I'll be here." She kissed him on the cheek and let Bobby lead her away.
They made it home in good time. It was dark by the time they got to the house and Bobby had to walk behind Lydia, his hand on her back, so she would not fall down the stairs as they went up to bed.
"Goodnight, Bobby, and thank you." Outside her room Lydia kissed his cheek sleepily and went inside, shutting the door.
"Night, kid. Don't worry, I got a plan." With that Bobby when to bed, the cogs in his brain already whirring to figure out the details.