February 7, 2011

~*~ MD ~*~

Merle watches his son for a minute over supper. The last couple of days seem to hold to the statements of both Jazz and Sophia that their break up is mutual and friendly. The primary change seems to be that they no longer sit side-by-side at all their meals, regardless of who they're sharing them with. Sophia's among the younger group of teenagers when she isn't eating with family or working like her current supper shift. Jazz is the one who's shifted seating habits a bit, tending to sit either of his fellow veterinary apprentices or Eugene. Tonight, he's sitting with Big Tiny and Beth both, with a textbook being shared between the three and very little food being actually eaten.

He exchanges a look with Carol, remembering Lori's concern in approaching him about Jazz. It's not the first time Daryl's other half has clued in to something about his son. He's just grateful Jazz has so many options now, when he needs to talk.

"You're going to give him the letter, aren't you?" Carol says softly. Her expression is understanding, but she's pitching her voice low because they've read all the letters now. He can see giving Honey hers, as he doesn't think the two pages of explanation will pivot his daughter in any direction she's not already headed in. But he's damn near willing to burn the letters for the older two. It's not that Lilliana's said anything awful in them, but he knows Scout and Daryl and nothing in their letters is going to heal the damage they carry. For now, they're put away safely, since he can't quite take the choice away from them.

But Jazz's? It weighed just a little bit more than the other three for the kids, and when Merle and Carol opened it last night, a set of negatives was folded inside a second, blank sheet of paper. It was hard to make out the details on the dim little 35mm film strips, other than it definitely contained shots of an infant. Once everyone left for breakfast this morning, they went down to use the lightbox in Jazz's darkroom to see them more clearly. He's still hesitant about giving the letter and negatives to his son, but he thinks not knowing is worse than knowing at this point for Jazz.

He nods in response to Carol's question. She reaches out and slides his empty plate under hers and squeezes his thigh reassuringly. He kisses her briefly and rises.

The conversation he walks up on would be amusing if he weren't concerned about the letter in his office. Hershel's little apprentice group is distracted from their studies by something bordering gossip.

"Jasper? Why's your friend keep looking at me like I'm the boogeyman?" Big Tiny is asking.

Beth and Jazz both look up, following the older man's line of sight. Patricia's fosterling, Al, is giving the big guy a look that would make a lesser man turn tail and run. Big Tiny just seems confused.

Beth giggles and Jazz seems pretty amused himself.

"He's mad because Melina keeps flirting with you," Jazz explains. "He doesn't care that you haven't been flirting back."

The blonde teenager nods. "Melina has a crush on you, Titus. Well, if you still call it that when you're older."

Big Tiny's confusion deepens and Merle lets himself be distracted to see where this is going. "She just gives me extras at supper."

"Yeah, but she doesn't just put extra food on your plate. She keeps asking your favorites. You haven't noticed how there's always one of your favorites every night at supper yet?" Beth asks.

"Oh." Big Tiny looks between the two teenagers and sighs. "Why's he mad about it? Isn't she a little old for him?"

"She's a little bit like his sister, looked after him before they came here," Jazz explains. "From Grady."

Merle can see the pieces slide into place for Big Tiny with that last word. He knows all the ex-convicts are well aware of the Grady and Terminus background. While the Grady ladies have been moving past their trauma and some even settling in relationships, it's still a tricky area for the community at times.

"Tell him for me, I'm not gonna bother Miss Melina. Didn't even know it was her name til now."

Merle reminds himself to pass this little bit of gossip along to Carol. She'll be more equipped to ferret out if there are still issues for young Al in regards to Grady and his overprotectiveness of Melina.

"Jazz?" Calling his son's name gets everyone's attention, and he smiles in response to Beth's bright greeting. "Can you meet me in my office after you finish eating? I've got something to show you."

"Sure, Dad." His son glances at what little's left on his plate and stacks his cutlery on top. "Pretty much done now."

Merle waits for him near the exit while Jazz goes to drop his dishes off. Jazz is quiet as they fall in step beside each other, but that's not unusual if he's not already got a topic he wants to talk about. The short walk goes by a little too quickly for Merle, who now second guesses himself. But they're in the office and Jazz is looking at him expectantly, so he opens the locked drawer and takes out the envelope.

"Your aunt came to me about something you said the other day, about how you became part of the family."

He watches Jazz's anticipation fade as the boy's expression closes off, but he doesn't speak.

"Who told you that you were left at the door?" he asks, trying to keep his voice calm. He hopes it wasn't carelessness on anyone's part, as they've always tried not to ever let on that anything happened other than Lilliana giving up custody so Jazz could grow up with his siblings.

"Abby's mama."

Damn that woman to hell. Sometimes, he thinks he hates his ex-sister-in-law far more than he's ever held rancor for his ex-wife. Even at the worst point, a part of him knew Lil was damaged, not mean. Carrie, on the other hand, just keeps proving to be a dyed-in-the-wool bitch.

"She just told you?"

"Not directly. Overheard her screaming at Glynnis one day, when she was mad cos Glynnis didn't take her side of things in the divorce."

"Why didn't you come to anyone about it?" Jesus Christ Almighty. His son has carried this around all on his own for maybe five years.

"Everyone was already upset about losing Abby." Jazz shrugs. "And we already had all my therapists to deal with."

He drags his son into a bear hug, feeling relief when Jazz melts into him without any resistance. The teenager is bigger than he is now, but it only serves to remind Merle of the struggling ten-year-old who's worked so hard to grow into who he is today.

"Son, I don't care if the whole damn world's on fire around us. Something like this ever bothers you again, I want you to come to me. You're just as important as anything else going on. Do you understand that?" His voice is so thick with emotion he's surprised Jazz can understand him, but his son nods against his shoulder.

He lets Jazz pull away and meets the eyes so like his own. "I love you, son."

"I know that, Dad. Love you too." Jazz's attention is on the envelope that's gotten slightly squashed.

Merle turns the creamy paper over in his hands, taking a deep breath. "Few years back, one of your sisters got in touch with your birth mother. She had questions I couldn't answer."

"Cricket."

"Yeah. Over time, Lil sent some letters through her, to pass on to me. Cricket's been holding on to them a while, but decided it shouldn't be up to her to decide when anyone was ready for them." He offers the envelope to Jazz. "I'll be honest with you that your mama and I read it first. Wasn't going to hand you some half-assed explanation or excuses."

Jazz takes the envelope with a steadiness Merle doesn't expect and looks inside, but doesn't remove the paper. "Negatives?"

He nods. "Used your lightbox to take a peek at them. Keep them, store them, or burn them. It's all your choice. But I figured you deserve to know more than you do."

"I'm gonna..." Jazz takes a step toward the door, obviously intending to look everything over in private, but he stops. "Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"You didn't know about me, before, did you?"

"No, Jasper, I didn't know. Doesn't matter though, not where you're concerned. You're still the best unexpected gift I ever got."

It gets him a rib-crushing hug from his son before the boy mutters another 'love you' and ducks out of the office.

Fucking hell. Protecting his son from the legacy of his birth is going to be lodged among his greatest parenting mistakes. He just hopes that damned letter will exorcise the ghost of his arrival in the world for Jazz.

~*~ Jesus ~*~

Out of all of the Georgians, Jesus figured when someone finally kicked over the apple cart in Alexandria, it would end up being Honey, Abraham, or Andrea.

Instead, it's the normally calm, friendly, flirty Christopher.

It's their third and last day helping the Alexandrians, and they're just about to eat supper at the farewell dinner Deanna insisted on hosting for the community as a thank you for the Georgians help. Jesus still hasn't made up his mind about revealing Hilltop to these people. The dilemma is strong enough that he's even borrowed the radio to consult with Ezekiel at the Kingdom. They're both warring with the idea that a vulnerable community like Alexandria puts them all at risk, but at the same time, the other three communities are progressing forward whereas Alexandria is stagnant and trying to dwell in the past.

It's not that their own communities don't have members who couldn't make it outside the walls. The problem with Alexandria is that of the fifty-three residents, he thinks less than a dozen are even remotely capable of surviving the new world. That's with lumping ones like Deanna's husband Reg in as capable, because he spearheaded putting the walls up and those are why this community survived this far. But Reg is like Jesus, willing to support the leader, but not wanting to be the leader.

Today wasn't even spent on supply runs, but on the Georgians trying to lay out basic survival skills the Alexandrians need to learn. With stocks of the air rifles in place here now, he watched Honey lead shooting lessons only to have her frustration grow when only five of the students take it very seriously. He supposes it should be a relief that Deanna's two sons, a supply runner, and the two recruiters are the ones paying attention.

Honey walked away from their practice with a pissed off expression, muttering to Aaron and Eric as they reached Jesus and Logan about the old adage about the enlisted men being the ones in the military that do the real work. Apparently, the snottier one of the Monroe brothers was in ROTC when the world went down. The fact that the man needs shooting lessons makes Jesus agree with Honey's assessment.

They're not even to the porch yet when Christopher comes striding up looking furious. He doesn't even halt at Honey's concerned greeting, striding onto the porch and snatching Dr. Anderson from where he's just greeting Deanna and Reg. The nurse's punch knocks the older man completely off the porch, and Jesus can hear the crunch of bone.

Honey's between the two men in a heartbeat, her arms wrapped around Christopher's waist halting the man's movement down the steps. From his expression, one punch wasn't his only intent for the doctor.

"Kit, what's wrong?" Honey demands. People are exiting Deanna's house to gather on the porch, but Alexandria's leader seems content to allow Honey handle Christopher for now.

"This goddamn place is harboring a fucking abuser."

With no reason not to believe Christopher and a general dislike of Pete when he's met him, Jesus makes sure Logan is firmly behind him. Pete's getting to his feet, shouting profanities, but Honey's people are all present now. When Pete takes a step toward Honey's unprotected back, Abraham goes over the porch railing, landing with ease and shoving one huge arm between the man and Abraham's friend.

"Make one more move toward a woman in front of me, asshole, and I'll make sure you're as useless to these people as tits on a boar hog," the sergeant growls out. Something in his expression convinces Pete, because the man backs up several steps. From the amount of blood on his face, Christopher broke his nose.

It gives Honey time to question Christopher further. "What happened, Kit?" she asks. Jesus hasn't heard her use the nickname before, but he's gotten enough of the group's background over the last few weeks to know that these two grew up together, more or less.

"One of the other kids came and got me when I was down talking to the other doctor. Said her friend was hurt." Christopher is still on the knife's edge of rage and it bleeds into his voice. "Kid's got three broken fingers. Asshole there slammed a door on them last night."

"Could have been an accident," someone calls out. "Pete's our doctor."

As if being a doctor makes him incapable of abusing someone. Jesus snorts.

"Sam admitted to having a lock inside his closet that his mother put there to keep him safe. Man's beating on the boy's mother too."

Christopher isn't fighting Honey anymore, so she releases him. The nurse is staring at Pete, and if looks could kill, the man would be a walker right now. Logan makes a sound behind Jesus and tugs at his coat. When he looks behind him, Logan points to where a blonde woman is standing, trembling hands on a boy's shoulders. The boy must be Sam, and he looks no older than Logan. His left hand has three splinted fingers. The other doctor, the head shrinker, is hovering just beyond the woman and child.

"I had hoped it was getting better," Deanna says.

All of the Georgians go from angry-but-concerned to pissed and with the exception of Abraham, round on Deanna. "You know about this bullshit?" Andrea demands. "And allow it?"

"He's our doctor. What would we do without a doctor here?"

Andrea takes three steps toward Deanna, and Jesus thinks they're about to see another Alexandrian get punched when Elias catches her wrist.

"You've got another doctor standing right there," Honey grind out, pointing right the female doctor. "Our only doctor for a while was a veterinarian. You've at least got a second one trained for people."

"She's a psychiatrist," Deanna says, voice wavering a little as she seems to reconsider her passivity in the face of the irate Georgians.

"That still means she's got years of medical school, same as the piece of shit behind me."

She turns, ignoring Deanna for the moment and steps next to Abraham. "You know what my people do to men like you?"

"No more than these people will. I have value to them," Pete replies, voice distorted by the damage to his nose.

Honey laughs, something dark and ill-humored in the sound that makes Jesus shiver. "We don't allow monsters to live."

"We don't kill people here," Deanna cries out.

That gets Andrea started again. "No, you're just a spineless bitch who stands by while someone else potentially beats your people to death. Because that's what's going to happen one day, and you're going to whine and cry and give such a speech about what a fucking tragedy it is when you end up burying that boy or his mama." Elias lets the blonde go, and she's in Deanna's face. None of Deanna's people intervene. "That makes you an even worse monster than he is."

"I'm nothing like he is."

"You're exactly like he is, a sniveling coward who's leader here by default because some dumbasses elected you in a different world and they still equate having enough money to win an election with leadership ability."

"You can't talk to my mother like that," Aiden intervenes. Took the idiot long enough to speak up on his mother's behalf.

"By her own rules, I sure can," Andrea spits out. "If having more value than the average person here means you're above the rules, then I'm one of the people who spent the last couple of days bringing in enough food and medicines to last your people til spring. That's just as valuable as a doctor who sits on his ass most of the day and treats the occasional sniffle while beating on his family behind closed doors."

Both Honey and Abraham are letting the blonde have her say. There's a tenseness to his friend's form that reminds him she's on as much a hair-trigger as Abraham's more obvious temper. Pete makes two steps forward while Honey's attention is on Deanna and Andrea, and Abraham makes good on his threat about getting close to a woman. The man's screaming on the ground within a minute, although Jesus doesn't think Abraham broke any additional bones. The combat boot square in the man's crotch, holding him in place on the ground, definitely is behind the screaming.

"Shut the fuck up, asshole," Abraham commands. "Before I crush your tiny balls outta existence."

Jesus wonders if the Alexandrians are just more sheep than people, or if their group inaction is because no one wants an abuser in their midst but they're just too cowardly to do anything about it themselves. Pete's screaming quiets under the very real threat Abraham is exerting to his groin.

"Since Alexandria doesn't take out the trash like they should, perhaps the punishment should be in the eye for an eye category," Honey suggests. No one realizes what she means until she very deliberately stomps Pete Anderson's left hand with her booted foot. She stares at the man gurgling in pain for a moment before turning back to their audience. "My people decline the invitation to dine among those who aid and abet men like this. We'll be leaving tonight." She glances at the woman and child with some expression of regret, but Jesus realizes that while the woman is weeping, the boy is not. "Mrs. Anderson, I can't make you leave this place, but I can promise you sanctuary, for you and your son."

"My brother too?" the boy calls out.

"Of course, your brother too."

The blonde woman looks from her husband, bleeding and weeping on the ground, to the young woman standing over him and speaks for the first time. "Is it safe, where you are? Can he find us?"

"It's safer than here, and damn near impossible for him to find us. But if he did, we don't allow monsters among our people. He'd be put down like one of the walking dead the second he approached our walls." She looks around at the crowd. "Anyone else who doesn't feel safe here? You're welcome to come as well."

The Georgians are gathered around Honey now, with only Andrea still on the porch. The blonde takes the time to step even closer to Deanna, her expression cold as ice. "Once, we had a community come to us for help where the leader decided that keeping her important people happy was more important than the rest of her people's safety. Let the men prey on the women. We put down every single rapist there, but you know who got the last bullet?"

Deanna looks panicked, but shakes her head.

"The leader who allowed it all to happen." She scoffs at the ex-congresswoman as Deanna stumbles backward and joins her companions on the ground.

Logan's small hand slips into Jesus' as they walk away to gather their things from Aaron and Eric's home.

"Kidnapping's a bad idea, right?" Honey mutters to him as they walk.

Jesus isn't entirely sure it is. He doesn't know if Mrs. Anderson will accept the escape offered and protect her children or not, but he can certainly understand the impulse to remove the children bodily from the situation.

There's not enough time to make it to Hilltop tonight, unless they drive in the dark, but he agrees with the idea to leave. Gregory's a lot of unadmirable things, but Jesus likes to believe that he wouldn't allow this.

~*~ JD ~*~

Jazz locks the basement bathroom door behind him, grateful everyone's still at supper and he didn't have to dodge his roommates or any visitors. The Dixon basement often has a handful of teenagers present in the evening, since it's reasonably comfortable and not under immediate adult supervision. He flips switches to convert the room from bathroom to dark room, but sits there at his lightbox for five minutes, the unopened envelope in his hands.

His dad's already looked at what's inside and deemed it safe for him. More importantly, his mother has looked, and he thinks Carol's probably more paranoid about emotional disturbances than Merle. He slides the contents out into his hand and separates the letter from the negatives. There are only three strips of six photos each, not a full roll for 35mm film, and the last strip is dark on the last two frames. Sixteen mystery photos. He places them one by one on the lightbox and flips the switch.

He's seen photos of himself as a baby before. Most are clumsily taken, framed by Daryl or his sisters, with a few group shots taken by Glynnis. But those don't start until he's about a month old. The older he's gotten, the more he can imagine the chaos of suddenly having a baby on hand, with Glynnis already caring for four children, so he's always done his best to understand that the photo chronology of his life starts later than his sisters'. Compared to Daryl, who has no photos of himself before age two, he shouldn't complain.

Here on his lightbox are sixteen photos that show him that despite everything he's thought of his birth mother since he was ten years old, she cared enough to document his earliest days and save the negatives for years. The letter's almost surplus at this point. He sets it aside and studies the negatives and sets to work.

When sixteen photos hang on the lines around him, he looks from image to image. All of the photos but one just focus on his newborn self.

He overheard his dad tell Cricket once that their mother loved them as much as she was capable. He used to think that wasn't very much, at least where he was concerned.

He's never actually seen a photo of his mother, by his own choice. He knows they exist. The offer's always been available that his father will go through the album he keeps put away with any of the children. When he was young, he didn't care to see pictures of a stranger. He had his father and his sisters and Daryl and Glynnis, plus Christopher and his family.

When he got older, he was too angry to want to see them. Just the thought of his birth mother made him want to destroy any evidence she existed.

She threw him away.

The one photo that's not just him doesn't fix all that ache from thinking his own mother didn't want him. But there in clear black and white, is his newborn self being held by his mother with all the care that he's seen Lori handle Judith with.

He leans in to study the woman in the image, the only one he enlarged more than a 4x6. Maybe it's a good thing that he's never seen a picture until now, because he sees her and thinks she looks like Honey, not that his sister looks like their absent mother. Those unique features will always be his sister's first in his mind.

He wishes his sister were home. He loves his eldest sisters, but Honey's the one he's grown up alongside. She's been his best friend and fiercest protector his entire life. He's never been apart from her for more than a week before.

She's the one who rejected the schools' insistence on Mother's Day projects by teaching him to cross out 'Mother's Day' and write in 'Father's Day Eve'. His dad displayed every project they both did that way with pride.

He picks up the envelope and studies it for a moment. The pictures were the easy part. He trusts images more than words, because it's too easy to lie with just words.

But he needs to know, so he pulls out the single sheet of handwritten paper and begins to read.

~*~ CP ~*~

Carol can't settle. Just knowing that Jazz took that envelope off somewhere, probably by himself, is enough to make her skin itch. Merle's in the shower, and she's read the current page in her book six times without comprehending a thing.

"Mama."

Jazz is in the doorway, swaying a little on his feet. As soon as she looks up, he darts over to her, kneeling by the couch and hugging her. It's so similar to the first time he relied on her for comfort that she feels herself tear up as he clings to her and cries.

She runs her fingers through his hair, soothing him as if he were much younger, until he runs out of tears. Merle is out of the bathroom now, but he's taken a seat and watches them with dark, haunted eyes.

If Cricket, older and more educated, struggles with the idea that she wasn't safe with her mother, how do they help Jazz understand?

Jazz finally mumbles against her lap. "Love you, Mama."

"I love you too, Jasper, always."

He looks up and gives her the sweetest smile. She realizes then that she's his safety net when he's upset.

Maybe helping Jazz is exactly this simple.