Title: Baseball

Series Title: After

POV: Niko

Author: Obi the Kid

Rating: PG

Chapter Summary: Seven months after Tumulus, the boys find a small patch of normal.

Series Summary: Snippet of my "After" series. A string of non-chronological short stories that focus on the 1-2 years after Cal returned from Tumulus.

Disclaimer: All hail Rob Thurman! No profit here, I'm just having fun.

Saturday. Spring. Kentucky. Some off-center town in the southwest corner of the state. It was warm. A little too warm for May, but Cal found it comforting and that was all that mattered. Seemed like a place to set up residence for a bit. No Grendel sightings in three weeks. That had to be a positive. Cal was talking more, but still quiet. Still not the little brother I knew from…before.

There was a small town little league baseball game nearby. I could hear the pop of the ball off the wooden bat and the enthusiastic cheers and claps that followed. We ventured toward rather than away from the event. Unusual for us. Cal wasn't one for crowds or people in general, other than me. He followed though. It helped that the sun was out bright and warming his ever-cold inner and outer self.

As crowds went, it wasn't a large one. We sat far enough away from the others, for a Cal-safe distance, but close enough not to raise any eyebrows. Fitting in was never our strong point. We never looked like the town we were in, but I was friendly with the locals and if anyone asked about Cal, I just told them he was sickly. It was sufficient for most to not consider us suspicious enough to call the police.

I sat cross-legged on the lush green grass. Cal did the same, keeping his shoulder within a whispered touch of my own. Trusting only one. Trusting only me.

"Feels good, doesn't it, Cal?"

"Warm," was his brief response; his overlarge sunglasses protecting his eyes from the still-harsh glare of being 'home'.

Not far away, a couple of parents were manning a grill, selling hot dogs and snacks for 50 cents each. I didn't dare offer Cal a hot dog. Although he'd treasured them as a kid, since he'd come back…meat of any type was off limits. Just seeing it near him on a plate would have him gagging or worse. But we'd had a long day and hadn't eaten since breakfast. Cal remained thinner than he should be. He'd picked up some weight in these last seven months, but not enough to make me not worry.

"You want chips and a soda?" Fattening and sugary. Two of his favorite things. And most importantly, meatless. He nodded.

"Yeah, maybe so."

He started up after me, but I set a soft hand on his shoulder. "Stay here, Cal. It's safe. You'll see me the entire time."

Detaching himself from my side was an almost impossible task since I'd gotten him back. That was fine with me. I'd lost him once, I didn't intend on doing so again. But at some point, he would need to do things on his own. He hated being left alone, but in the last month, I'd been working steadily to encourage him to do so, in the right circumstances.

Now was one of those circumstances.

There came another nod and he sat back down in the grass and picked at it, pulling a blade out and then splitting it down the middle; anything to keep his mind off the fact that that I was going away; even for only a moment or two.

Cal's days ranged from horrible to bad to decent to good and all things in between. On the worst of his days, he stayed curled in bed and growled at me when I tried to get him out. Bad days were filled with an unhealthy combination of anger, rage and frustration. Never were those emotions intentionally aimed in my direction, but those types of days often times followed his nightmare filled nights.

Decentdays on the other hand, consisted mostly of a quiet, submissive Cal. He'd follow me, ask simple questions about everyday things and then get upset for asking them.

Good days were like today. They held signs of the old Cal and his willingness to try things that I'd asked of him, such as staying put while I walked 30 feet away to get him a bag of chips and a can of soda. I did well to encourage this Cal.

I gave the lady at the stand an extra couple of dollars to support the home team. Not because I had money filling my pockets, but it helped to keep us off of the 'creepy guy and his creepier brother' list. Though rare, my best smile was given, my most sincere manners at the forefront. She smiled back, energetically thanking me for the donation and for coming out to support the teams, and let me on my way.

By the time I got back to my brother, Cal had shredded twenty two pieces of grass and had laid them out in symmetrical piles of four pieces each. Perhaps my need for structure and neatness was finally wearing off on him.

I knelt down and handed him the snacks. "Some of those horrendous sour cream and onion chips you love so much, Oreos and a Coke. Good?"

"What'd you get?"

"Pretzels and a bottle of water."

"Closest thing to health food, huh?"

I held up the small bag of Snyder's pretzels. They weren't my usual fair, but they'd suffice this time. Since the life changing event that was Junior when I was fifteen, I'd vowed to do everything in my power to make myself as strong and healthy as I could; to keep Cal safe. Changing my eating habits wasn't all that difficult, especially after reading the ingredients in some of what passed for food in society today. I made no attempt to change Cal's diet. He deserved what made him happy, and until the Grendel had taken him, food was a priority in his life. It would one day be again…and once he made a full recovery, I'd feed him chemically-glazed, over-processed snack foods for the rest of his life if it meant my brother was safe and well.

I looked at his sunglass-tinted eyes as he crunched a chip. Even though the shades I could see…Cal was tired. I could see it in the way he ate and in the slump of his shoulders.

I brushed against him. "We'll go job hunting tomorrow. This place isn't far from two bigger cities. I'm sure there are dojo's around or perhaps some tutoring jobs at the local schools. The motel we found is good enough, right?"

He shrugged. "It's okay. Stinks though."

"We can find another one."

"S'okay, Nik. You cleaned it up good."

I had. Bleach was a constant, stored in the trunk of my car. I cleaned the bathroom, kitchen and under Cal's bed at each and every hotel we'd stayed. Small things, but it helped him. But nothing got past Cal's sense of smell. If he said the place stunk, then it did.

"We can move, Cal. There are plenty of places with rooms."

"Not for the price we can afford. M'okay. We can stay."

The solid crack of the wood bat pulled my attention away from the motel talk. The hitter, a small boy, hustled his way to first base, helmet flying off midway through his determined hard-running white-lined journey down the baseline. His hair was dark. Black. A young Cal. In another life. One I could only dream of. A life of normalcy where Cal ran bases instead of running for his life.

I lost myself in thought, until a nudge to my shoulder snapped me back.

"Nik?"

"Huh? What, Cal?"

"I said we can stay at the motel you found."

I nudged back watching the small dark-haired boy steal second and then kick at the base after he got tagged out. It made me smile ever so briefly. Yeah. That could be my little brother out there.

But it wasn't and this wasn't our life, though we could still enjoy it if only for a moment.

"You're a good brother, Cal," I finally said to him. "We should go. You're tired and I'm hungry." I eyed the half eaten bag of pretzels in my lap.

"No, Nik. Let's stay. Finish watching the game."

That was an unexpected surprise. I carefully tried to encourage it. "You sure?"

"You spend a lot of time in filthy motel rooms for me. I can do this for you."

Hell, yes, he was a good brother. And I dared anyone to challenge me on it.

"Okay then, little brother. Baseball it is. Maybe we'll like this place enough to stick around for a bit, huh?"

"Maybe," he shrugged, then, "Depends."

I knew the meaning there. And I knew he was right. If the Grendel found us, we'd leave. We couldn't put anyone else in danger and I wasn't about to let them anywhere near Cal ever again. For now though, we were here and here was good.

Here was beautiful weather and good people.

Here was sitting in the soft green grass with the only person in the world who mattered to me and getting lost in a small-town baseball game.

With Cal leaning slightly into my shoulder, we sat together, Oreos and pretzels in hand, watching the last few innings. It was perhaps as normal a day as we'd ever hope to find.

The End