A/N: Here's lucky 13! Thanks again for all the reviews and I hope everyone had a Merry Christmas.
An Unlikely Angel
Chapter 13: A Hypnotist
Okay, fine. Go ahead. Show me a world without me in it.
You got it, Sarah. Now…what to show her first. Ah…
I take Sarah's hand and close my eyes. When I open them, we're standing in front of some sort of computer store. We're obviously in a small town, and through the window of the store I can see a rather portly gentleman standing behind the counter. He has a friendly, open smile on his face, his expression really no different than it was when he was a fellow JAG lawyer. He looks happy enough, I guess…but there is plenty missing from Bud Roberts' current life.
Sarah hasn't seen Bud yet; she's too busy looking up and down this little town's main street. It's close to Christmas if the shabby decorations adorning the streetlights are any indication, and it looks like the stores left in this downtown area are trying to look festive as well. It all looks a little sad; there's no doubt that many businesses in this area have either moved to be near more thriving retail areas or have folded all together with the arrival of all the big discount stores. I peak in again at Bud, who right now is on the phone with his father and then look over at Sarah; it's probably time for us to get this show on the road. I put my hand on her arm.
"Are you ready?" I ask.
"For what?" she asks rather sullenly. One would think she'd be more amazed at this sudden change in scenery.
"We're going to go meet one of your former…excuse me…never-was colleagues."
She peaks in the window as well. "And who would that be…is that—is that Bud?"
"The one and only," I respond. And he really is an only. He has no family to speak of anymore; there's no Harriet, no little AJ…all he has now is this job, a one-bedroom apartment, a father who only talks to him when he wants something, and a brother that is…well, let's just say for now that Mikey Roberts is not in the navy.
"What is he doing here?" Sarah asks, eyes still wide with surprise.
I take her arm and pull her to the door of the shop. "Let's see, shall we?" I smile sweetly at her and she rolls her eyes, but at least she's obedient and comes with me.
The bell on the door jingles as I open it, and this wider version of Bud looks up and smiles. He puts a hand over the mouthpiece of the phone and calls out a cheery, "I'll be right with you," and Sarah can only stare.
"What happened to him?" she asks, obviously stunned. Bud Roberts was always rather chubby when I knew him, and I'm sure he just barely made the cut when it came to his physical condition. However, when he lost his leg, the efforts he made to stay in the navy included becoming more fit. This Bud has spilled over into the obese category.
"Oh," I say, following her gaze, "he's no longer in the navy. He doesn't have to worry about PRT scores anymore."
Sarah's brow furrows. "But…he fought so hard…why would he give it up? Did they end up letting him go because of his leg after all?" She turns toward me while Bud's conversation with his father appears to grow more heated.
"His leg had nothing to do with it. He's still got two good ones." She looks back and forth between us, clearly not knowing what to think about this development.
"Well, shouldn't that have been a good thing?" she asks, her brown eyes full of confusion.
"Well," I say, while Bud turns his back to us. "I suppose it is always a good thing when you're not an amputee, but Bud was out of the navy long before anyone would have considered sending him to Afghanistan." Sarah is considering this when Bud finally hangs up the phone.
"What can I do for you ladies today?" Bud asks. I can tell he's still flustered from his conversation with his deadbeat dad, but Sarah, of course, doesn't know that's who he was talking to.
Sarah steps forward. I can tell she doesn't entirely believe me that this Bud will have no idea who she is, but I suppose I will just have to let her figure some things out for herself.
"Bud?"
"Yes?"
"Don't you—um, don't you remember me?"
Bud smiles at her, a generic, friendly, 'I have no idea who you are' smile and shakes his head. "I'm sorry, ma'am."
Sarah isn't ready to give this up. "Bud, it's me. It's Mac." She sounds almost desperate for him to know her and all I can do is look on in sympathy.
Bud's smile falters a bit, but he remains polite. "I'm sorry, ma'—Mac. Did we work together?"
"Yeah, Bud…you were in the navy…"
Bud's expression darkens. "I haven't been in the navy for a long time." It's clear this is a sore subject for him; I know he didn't exactly leave the navy by choice, but his fit reps weren't what they should have been, among other reasons why he was separated from the service.
"But—" I decide I should probably intervene.
"Excuse me, Bud…I need to have a word with Mac here." I take Sarah's arm and turn her around to walk her toward the front window. Bud shrugs, and I'm sure he's relieved.
"He doesn't know you, Sarah."
"Sure, he does," she says, stubbornly.
"No, he doesn't. You never joined the marines because you didn't live long enough to. Bud washed out of the navy after he failed out of law school."
Sarah glances over at Bud. "What do you mean, he failed out of law school? He graduated third in his class."
"No, Sarah, he didn't. As much as I never understood it when I was alive, you and Ha-, you were a good influence on him."
"I didn't do so much…it was mainly Harm—well, so what. I wasn't there, okay, but Harm…he would have…what about him?"
Ok, I really don't want to go into that right now. Not yet, anyway. Not unless I absolutely have to.
"Um," I say, "it, ah, took both of you." Sarah bites her lip, considering this.
"What, um, happened?" she says in a near whisper. Bud is now occupied with another customer, so we have a few minutes to chat without looking conspicuous.
"Well, Bud did end up at JAG…for a while. He did go to law school…but you weren't there to encourage him, among other things, and he just couldn't keep up with it. Not with school, not with his PT, and once he failed out of law school, they just couldn't keep him in anymore."
I can tell she has more questions, but I really hope she doesn't ask me about him. Sure, back in the day, I would have done almost anything to undermine the colonel, but now that I know her…I really don't want to hurt her like that. Yes, I know I likely will have to eventually, but until then…
"Loren?" Sarah says tentatively.
Here it comes.
"What about Harriet?"
Oh, thank goodness…that one isn't so bad.
"She and Bud met when she started working for the Inspector General's office. They went out, but it didn't go anywhere." Because you and Harm weren't there to coach him through it. Sad, really, that he needed two other adults to make his love life successful, but I guess this is Bud we're talking about.
"Oh," Sarah says softly. Her fists open and close a few times before she asks her next question. "So…little AJ…he's not…"
"His parents never got together, so he was never born. There's no AJ, no Jimmie, no baby Sarah…"
"But—"
"They never lived, Sarah, because you were never there." Sarah looks pale and not a little shaky, and I worry for moment that she'll faint again. She takes a few deep breaths though, and she seems to have it together again. I see her blink back a few tears before another jingle of the bell on the main door heralds the arrival of another customer.
Or maybe not…
"Hey, Bud!" Sarah turns at the sound of a familiar voice, but I suspect that the tone of that voice is a surprise.
"Mikey?" Sarah says in shock. The young man before us is nothing like the future naval officer I'm sure she remembers. The kid before us is a punk, from his bushy unkempt hair, to his cracked leather jacket, to his ripped jeans. This Mikey Roberts has had numerous brushes with the law and if it weren't for Bud's intervention, he'd likely be in jail. You'd hope he'd be grateful to his older brother, but the more Bud does for him, the more abusive Mikey gets.
At the sound of Sarah's voice, Mikey glances our way. He looks Sarah up and down with a disgusting leer and frankly, even if I were still the Loren of old, I would have taken him to task for it.
"Mikey," Sarah says again. "What happened?"
Mikey's expression goes from a leer to a look of confused irritation. His business with Bud, however, takes precedence over two unknown women, and the punk stalks over to the counter where his brother stands. The two talk back and forth, Bud getting more and more agitated, until finally Mikey grabs Bud by the collar of his shirt.
"Hey!" Sarah shouts, stepping forward. This, of course, is our cue to leave. I grab Sarah by the arms and blink, and in an instant, we're back in front of a certain Georgetown apartment building.
"What are you—" Sarah is still shouting at Mikey and pulls away from me, but then she sees where we are. She whirls around, clearly upset. "Dammit, Loren. We have to go back—we can't let Mikey—" Suddenly she straightens up and glares at me. "No…that couldn't have been real. You must have…hypnotized me…or something…you're a hypnotist!"
The ridiculousness of that statement makes me laugh outright. "No, of course not. I'm your guardian angel." And here we are, right back at the beginning…come on, Sarah…
"No…no…that—that never happened…Bud and Harriet are safe in their home with Jimmie and Little AJ. Mikey's at the Academy." She's in tears now, and I'm feeling rather guilty. I don't know, though, how else to get her to believe her life is worth living. Worth continuing.
"Why—why was Mikey that way? He was…is a good kid…"
"Sarah…"
"Just say it, Loren. What happened to all of them?"
I take a deep breath. "Well, Sarah, you weren't at JAG when Bud needed someone. He needed you, but he also needed Harriet, and you weren't there to keep them together. Bud and Harriet never got married so they weren't around to support Mikey. Mikey actually did stand up to his father and refused to join the navy, but Bud wasn't in a place where he could have guided his brother. Big Bud kicked Mikey out, he fell in with a bad crowd…and because Bud feels guilty about it all, he spends his time cleaning up after Mikey and keeping him out of jail. Mikey is still angry about his father and even though Bud is doing everything he can to help, he's still upset because he feels like Bud abandoned him. So, you see…the impact you had on Bud Roberts goes beyond just his one life."
I give Sarah a few moments to absorb all of that. I can see the uncertainty in her eyes, but I can also see a spark of belief there. She keeps denying it, but I know there's a growing part of her that knows what she sees is true.
She paces back and forth in front of me a few times, then stops a few feet from me. "Okay," she says, "if, and I repeat, if, all that is true…it would seem my work is done. Bud's a lawyer, he's in the navy, he has Harriet and the kids…what does it matter if I—I leave now?"
Oh, Sarah…what do I say to that?
"It matters, Sarah."
"How do you know that?" She swipes at the tears that once again slip down her cheeks. "I'm not even…we're not…not close anymore. They don't need me."
Lord, they do need her…I know it…but how do I convince her? I can't show her the future…
And I really can't show her the future…it hasn't happened yet; people have free will and all that…there's just no way to show her what will happen if she leaves now. I was hoping that if she saw what kind of impact she'd had on the people around her, she would realize that she's sure to have an impact on others in the future.
"Sarah, you're just going to have to take my word for it. They love you. You're the one distancing yourself from them." This is true. I saw so much of it when Joseph was showing me her life, and I know it is her perceived guilt that is holding her back.
Sarah crosses her arms over her chest and stares me down. "Take your word for it, Loren? You're going to have to give me a little more to work with, there."
Lord, there has to be an easier way to for me to earn my wings. "For goodness sake, Sarah, can't you let that go? I've changed. Dying and losing…um, dying and going to Heaven, being an angel, seeing you grow up—"
"What?"
"Seeing you grow up. I've been watching you since you were seven."
"How?"
Goodness. I've just transported her to a different time and place, and that is what she questions? Give me a break!
"It's Heaven, Sarah. We can do whatever we want." Not quite, Loren, comes Joseph's voice in my head. I mentally shush him; of course, I know that. I'm just trying to make a point with Sarah. Carry on, then, his voice sounds again, and I roll my eyes.
"Well?" Sarah still has her arms crossed over her chest, and now she's actually tapping her foot.
"Well, Sarah…the nice angels in Heaven thought I should know a bit about you before I came down to save you."
She looks suddenly wary. "What did…" She swallows hard. "What did you find out?"
"I know that your father drank and hit your mother."
Sarah snorts at that. "That's probably fairly common knowledge."
It really isn't, common knowledge, that is, but obviously that's not all I know. "Well…when you were seven, your mother let you help with Christmas dinner. You burnt your hand when you grabbed the handle of the roasting pan; your mom's wrist was broken so she couldn't lift the turkey out of the oven by herself. You mashed the potatoes for her, but because you burnt your hand, they came out a little lumpy. And that day you also made your first pie—" Sarah's face goes white at that.
"Stop it."
"It was pumpkin…"
"I said, stop it, Loren." Sarah's crying again, and I have to admit, despite knowing what happened with her first pie, I've never quite understood why a simple pumpkin pie causes her so much anguish. I decide to push her just a bit.
"Like I said, it was pumpkin…"
"Loren, please…"
"And you burnt the edges a bit…" Sarah's hands come up to cover her ears. "And then your dad threw his piece against the wall."
"Why are you doing this, Loren? Why?"
"Why does your pie upset you so much? Everybody loves it, but you never eat it. You'll eat other people's pumpkin pie, and you know darn well none of it is as good as yours. Everybody raves about that pie, but you tell them you get it at some non-existent grocery store in Georgetown. Come on, Sarah, even I indulged in it. You've brought it to every Christmas and Thanksgiving gathering we've ever had, and we've all fought for the last piece at one time or another. So, Sarah, what's the big deal?"
"There's no deal. I just don't like to talk about it."
"But why, Sarah?"
"I—"
"Well?"
"I—I don't know."
"You don't know? Come on, Sarah—you can do better than that!" I've come to hate seeing her cry and I hate doing this to her, and I know that solving the mystery of her pie is probably not detrimental to keeping her from killing herself, but it's going to help her in the long run. That is, if I can keep her here. "You can do better!" I repeat.
"No, I can't! I don't know, Loren. I don't know!"
"Yes, you do, Sarah." And I think I'm starting to as well.
"No…"
"It was your father's favorite."
"I know, dammit!"
"You've been trying to make that burned pie up to him ever since, haven't you?" That thought hits me like the proverbial ton of bricks. Of course…
Sarah is trembling as she shakes her head.
"You thought that if you made a perfect pie, he'd be nice to you. To your mom."
"Don't be ridiculous—"
"But he wasn't. Your pie got better and better, but he got worse and worse. Your mom left. He hit you. Then you made it for your husband…it didn't keep him around either."
Sarah's sobbing into her hands now, but I'm not finished. "So, you still kept working on that pie…perfecting it…and finally, you made it for Harm. You were so proud that he loved it, but you couldn't even tell him you made it. You couldn't tell him you made any of it…because if he knew, you wouldn't think he was sincere anymore. Because letting your father or Chris know you made it never got you anything. Of course, not telling him didn't help either…he left you anyway."
"Just stop, Loren. Stop," she sobs, and I'm having to draw on every last bit of the old Loren to keep from crying with her.
"But you still make that pie, and it should be impossible, but it gets better every year. You won't taste it though…because even though you know it'll be perfection, it will remind you of how imperfect you are…how you'll never be enough."
"I thought you were trying to keep me from killing myself, Loren."
"I am, Sarah. And I'm telling you, you are enough. You are. You always have been—you've been more than enough, no matter what all those people did to tell you otherwise."
Sarah brushes more tears aside. "Have I? It would seem that the number of people out there who've told or shown me I'm not is a little high if that's true."
"Well, people are assholes." I say this matter-of-factly and I'm being totally serious, but this actually causes Sarah to laugh—and it's not the sarcastic, bitter laughter I've heard from her tonight; she's actually, honestly, amused.
"Well, you would know something about that…"
I'm about to let her have it for that crack, but a glint in her eyes tells me she's teasing.
"Come on, Sarah. I've changed." She stares at me for long moments, and even though I'm an angel, I start to squirm. A soft smile finally graces her lips.
"Yes, Loren," she says. "I believe you have."
I've let Sarah take a little breather before we move on. Seeing Bud and Mikey that way and our little breakthrough about the pie has to have been difficult for her, and, though we are running short on time, she needs this.
I'll be the first to admit that I still don't entirely understand the whole pie thing despite our conversation, but I honestly do think it has become a symbol of her efforts to be loved and a reminder that she's always falling short. Of course, that's her perception. Personally, I think she's just been surrounded by assholes all her life…well, maybe that's a little strong, but from what I've seen, more people have let her down than the average.
"I had to take that burned pie to my grandmother's house the next day," Sarah says, surprising me and interrupting my thoughts.
"I know. Your Uncle Matt picked you up and you stayed the night there with him and your Aunt Susan."
"They all raved about the pie, but I always thought they were just saying that," she continues. "But maybe…"
"Yeah?" I prompt her, though I already know about that, but she merely sighs. She's lost in thought for a moment, then turns fully toward me.
"Nothing…you know, Uncle Matt left me too."
I raise my eyebrows at her, knowing her bringing up her Uncle Matt is a perfect segue into my next plan for her.
"I can understand intellectually why he did what he did…but he had to know where he'd end up. I never understood why he took that risk when he knew I didn't have anyone else." I nod sympathetically. Truthfully, I've always wondered that too, or at least I've wondered about that as long as I've known about Matthew O'Hara.
I have many opinions about the theft of the Declaration of Independence and none of them are flattering to Uncle Matt, but I'll keep them to myself for now. What I have to show Sarah next is going to be terribly painful for her; there's no need to make it worse.
It seems that Uncle Matt stole the Declaration of Independence in this timeline as well, but the outcome was very different.
And now I'll have to explain that to her.
Here goes nothing…
"Yes, Sarah?" I heard what she said, and yes, Joseph, I am stalling. I'm really not looking forward to this and I suspect even the old Loren Singer would have hesitated before telling her the truth. At least I hope she would have…honestly, the more I think about my old self, the more I'm surprised I ended up in Heaven.
Sarah hesitates before asking her question again.
"Um…Uncle Matt…did he…did he steal it here too?"
I nod slowly. "He did, Sarah."
"Is he…he…in prison?"
This time I shake my head back and forth. "No, he isn't."
She tries to hide it, but I can see her distress growing. She knows what I'm going to say.
"Is he…dead?"
Oh, this is hard… "Yes, Sarah, he is. I'm sorry."
She swallows hard, trying to keep it together. "How…how did it…it was those two sergeants, wasn't it…the ones that killed Captain Cahill? They killed Uncle Matt too…"
"No, it wasn't them."
"Then what…how, um, how did it happen?"
I take a deep breath.
"He was executed, Sarah. For treason."
End Chapter 13