A/N: First of two (or maybe three). I've had bits and pieces of this idea gathering dust on my laptop for too long, and figured it was well past time to do something with them. For those of you who read my Dwayne/OC story, I'm planning on returning to that in the not-so-distant future - just gotta reread what I have so far and gain my bearings first!
"So this is where you're from, huh?" Paul was staring out of the car window, curiosity written across his face.
All five of them were crammed into a silver Ford Focus. David driving (and complaining endlessly about being on the 'wrong' side of the road), Dwayne riding shotgun, whilst Cat sat squashed between Paul and Marko in the back. Leaning across Paul so that her torso was practically in his lap, she looked out of the window with him.
"This is it," she nodded "The mean streets of Lanarkshire."
Cat suspected she might return to Scotland one day. After all, she was immortal and forever was a long time - it would be more surprising if she never returned at all. What she didn't anticipate were the circumstances. The expected nostalgia and comfort had been replaced by anxiety and paranoia. But at least she was back before her hometown had a chance to change much. Twenty years...she was stunned it wasn't more different. On some level, the only indication she'd ever left was her present company and a few new tattoos.
"This is my old area," she announced softly as they took a turn into a complex of tightly packed terraced houses.
It wasn't the roughest part of town by any means, but it was far from upscale. Terraced houses, rows of shops with graffiti-laden shutters or cracked windows, groups of teens in tracksuits huddled on street corners sharing joints, and god knows what else.
"It's fuckin' freezing," Marko grumbled, pulling his jacket tighter around him.
Cat moved back to sit normally in her seat, pulling her hood up. It wouldn't do if anybody saw her. It was a small community - a village, really, despite the rough exterior. Everybody knew everybody, and her disappearance wouldn't have been taken lightly. Best she remain a ghost - or, given as it had been two whole decades, a ghost of a ghost. Paul reached for her hand, squeezed it, and then kept hold of it in her lap.
"Take a left," she instructed David weakly, the butterflies in her abdomen morphing into hornets.
Paul squeezed her hand again. Gradually, the streets began to change as they headed north, away from the town centre. They became more brightly lit, with street lights that glowed white instead of a dingy amber, the houses bigger, with more space between them and better kept. Jamie had done well for himself, then. Pride welled up inside her, but it was nothing in comparison to the worry. A few moments passed with sickening dread slowly building. They parked the car a few streets away before getting out - the boys swearing at the onslaught of harsh, icy wind - and began to walk the rest of the way. In any other situation, she'd have joked that it was the most clothes she'd ever seen Dwayne wear.
Seeing the boys in her hometown was weird. Almost like they'd been cut out of a photograph and pasted into another from a completely different album. A different life. For so long, the two lives she'd lived, mortal and immortal, had been separated by thousands of miles, years, and an ocean. To watch them crash together like this was surreal. Almost like when Jamie had shown up in Santa Carla.
When the house came into sight, Cat wanted to turn and run. But they had nowhere to run to. Not for now, while Santa Carla teemed with hunters. If she couldn't do this for herself, she had to do it for her brothers. Still, the dread intensified to the point that she felt lightheaded. Grabbing Paul's hand again, she put all of her willpower into placing one foot in front of the other - and pretending not to notice how closely the four pairs of eyes kept flickering to her. They'd known her plenty long enough to know when she was wound tight. Finally, they reached the house with the number that had been on the return address. It was as big as a home could be without moving from "comfortable" to "grand", all the curtains were closed, but she could see a light on downstairs through the curtains of the bay window, a few feet right of the large, blindingly white front door.
"Need a minute?" David asked somewhere behind her, but it was clear by his tone that he was hoping she wouldn't.
After living in a cave for so long, she'd have thought they'd be a bit tougher against a Scottish winter.
"Let's just get it over with," she replied with a shake of her head.
They walked in single file up the garden path. After they got around half the way up, David, Marko and Dwayne stopped. It was a wise move. Opening the door to her would be enough of a shock - and his last encounter with her other brothers didn't end too well. Paul hesitated a little, but her grip on his hand tightened so he continued at her side.
For just under the first decade she spent in California, she and Jamie had written on a monthly basis. They'd discuss family, what she was missing, and she'd reassure him that she was fine. But after a while they began to run out of things to say. After all, for Cat it was like somebody had hit a pause button on her life. She couldn't have a career, couldn't have children, couldn't "grow up". Santa Carla was her Neverland, and Paul the Peter Pan to her Wendy. What could she write to him about? A funny joke one of the boys had said? Whatever newest topic she'd decided to educate herself on from the books she could find on the boardwalk? What didn't help was that she could sense that it was becoming gruelling for Jamie. The death of their mother had done a great deal of damage, severing one of the main things they had in common - and the older Jamie got, the amount of things they could relate to each other with lessened and lessened. She began to worry if writing letters to her wasn't dragging up a past he'd rather forget, so it was an obligation she couldn't not free him from.
The communication never halted completely. A postcard here, a gift there. But pages upon pages of writing had become reduced to short notes and an occasional full page here and there, intended as reassurances that they were both still alive. What right did she have to show up on his doorstep now? And with the very people whom he hated for taking her away, at that? None. None at all.
"Fuuuuuck," she hissed under her breath, bouncing on the balls of her feet in an effort to psych herself up before clenching her fist and thudding it against the door.
Dun-dun-da-dun-dun...dun-dun. It was the knock she'd always done on his bedroom door when they were kids. Old habits and all that.
She almost hoped he wouldn't answer. The universe wasn't so kind. Time seemed to move in slow motion as she caught sight of a figure through the frosted tinted glass fitted into the door, drawing nearer and nearer, until a light flickered on in the hallway, a couple of locks clicked and the door swung open.
Cat stood face-to-face with her brother for the first time in nineteen years, and she was speechless. She knew he'd look different. Obviously he'd look different - he'd gone from thirty to fifty. His eyes were the same, matching hers, but there were crows feet at the corners of them now. His once vibrant red hair was now streaked with grey, and he now kept a short goatee instead of being clean-shaven. When he saw her, he froze dead-still and blinked slowly, as if expecting her to disappear when his eyes opened again.
"...Hi Jamie," her voice came out as a near-whisper.
A warm welcome was the last thing she'd been expecting, but Jamie's response was like a punch in the stomach.
"What are you doing here?"
His tone held no happiness or excitement, only panic and shock. Hurt flooded through Cat, and whether it showed outwardly, or he simply knew her well, Paul's hand moved to rest on her lower back. Jamie's eyes flickered from her, to Paul, and then behind them to her brothers...then back to her. Cat hugged her arms tightly around herself.
"We, erm...We're in trouble. Can we come in?"
"Look, Catrio-."
"Jamie?" a woman's voice rang out from inside.
Cat stumbled backwards a little as a woman appeared in the doorway. She was beautiful, with long curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a motherly air around her. She rested a hand on Jamie's bicep and gave them all a bright, if not baffled, smile.
"Oh, Anna, this is...uh, this is-."
"I'm Catherine," Cat stepped forward, offering a hand "Jamie's cousin."
Anna's smile widened, and she shook her hand enthusiastically "Oh! It's lovely to meet you!"
Her eyes drifted across the others unsurely.
"This is Paul, my fiancé," Cat thought on her feet "And some of our friends."
The boys had drawn nearer once Anna appeared in the doorway, and each gave Anna a somewhat uncomfortable nod as Cat rattled off their names.
"I'm sorry about the time," Cat laughed sheepishly, hating how high-pitched and nervous it came out "It's just we've only just flown in from America and we didn't really plan-"
"Oh, Jesus, you'd better all come in then!"
Jamie looked like he might protest for a moment - and Cat wanted to - but he seemed to think better of it, standing aside to make room in the doorway for them to walk past. They kicked off their boots (only after a half-pointed, half-pleading look from Cat), and then the boys followed her into the living room, where Anna insisted they all make themselves at home. While she did her best to keep an (albeit strained) smile on her face, Jamie's lips were set in a thin line as he watched her and the boys make themselves comfortable in his living room.
A huge TV sat above a roaring fireplace, with a movie she didn't recognised paused and two wine glasses sitting half-full on the coffee table. She wondered if apologising for interrupting what looked like date night would help or harm their case.
"Would you all like something to drink?" Anna asked merrily "We've got tea, water, juice...wine, too, but maybe not enough for everybody."
Jamie's jaw clenched and his eyes lowered. This wasn't missed by his wife, whose eyes moved between them all with confusion. Before Cat could argue, she was talking again.
"Tea it is," she said "I'll go boil the kettle."
And give them privacy to talk in doing so. Cat managed a weak "thank you" which was echoed by the boys with varying degrees of warmth. The door closed behind the woman, and the smile slipped from Cat's face. This had been a terrible idea.