ART OF THE DARK - PART 35
RJ sits in the driver's seat of the car, door open, feet on the ground. He cradles a foam cup in his hands, watching the steam rise from the coffee inside. The little bit of heat feels good on his rough calloused hands...hands that have done so many wicked deeds over the years...
...most of them today.
He sighs at that, as fatigue starts to catch up with him. God, he just wants to go find a nice four-star hotel somewhere, soak in a marble tub, wrap himself up in a soft robe and go to sleep in a first-class bed… and not wake up for a month.
Even more than that, he wants to forget he ever met Todd Manning...and Téa Delgado. He shakes his head, feeling so awful about having that kind of a thought. He loved Téa, still does. Will always love her. But she doesn't make sense to him, not anymore. Not after what he's seen and been through. In true hip-hop fashion, he just ain't feelin' her. He's lost all sense of that closeness and understanding that they used to have. It seems like another lifetime when they would sit in her office and talk over burgers and fries, when she felt she could confide in him.
But my girl done lost her damned mind, same as her husband.
And whose fault that is, he has no idea. A good bit of the blame rests with Todd, no doubt, stupid-ass, and Roseanne didn't help things neither. But as much as it galls him, RJ has to admit that Téa was just as bad, in her own way. How else could he explain what she begged of him? To hide her contacts with Shelton, her kidnapper? How else could he explain her behavior after that? Running the way she did?
No sense...no sense at all.
He sighs again, taking a sip from the cup as an older man emerges from the unmarked building. He walks over to him.
"RJ," he calls, in a heavy Jamaican accent.
RJ looks up, nodding at the old man. "Yo, man," he says, extending a hand. The old man shakes hands, a strong warm grip, then RJ stands up, tossing the rest of the coffee.
"So...what's the word?"
"Da word," the old man starts, with a grin, "is dat your friend is awake."
RJ says grimly, "Who says he's my friend?"
The old man chuckles, thinking RJ must be joking. "Well, if ya' wanna see 'im, you betta' go to 'im now before 'im get da next dose o'morphine, eh?"
RJ nods, chucking the guy on the arm. "Will do. Thanks, man...you really ARE a miracle worker."
The old man laughs again, following RJ back inside. The building is rundown and unkempt, a shell, basically. But RJ's Jamaican associates have turned it into an all-purpose facility: a safe house, a meeting place, a staging area for moving goods back and forth across the border… even a makeshift hospital. The old man-who among other things, works as a doctor for the mob guys-shows RJ into the small room that serves as the ER.
It's light-blasted compared to the rest of the building, so much so that RJ has to squint for a minute to get used to it. He watches the old doctor move around the person on the gurney, speaking softly to him and then lifting the top half of the gurney so the man can sit upright. The doctor checks the man's pulse and blood pressure, jotting the information down on a small memo pad and shoving it into his pocket. He then nods at RJ, pointing at the chair for him to sit down before he walks out, closing the door behind him.
RJ pulls the chair back a bit, turning it and straddling it, resting his elbows on the straight back. He stares at the man on the gurney with no visible emotion...all business. Then he holds up two fingers in a "V," the outside of his hand facing the man, otherwise known as the British version of "the finger."
"How many fingers am I holdin' up?"
From the gurney, Dean Shelton blinks very slowly, still coming back from his trip to the netherworld. But he recognizes the gesture and actually starts to laugh… but only for a second, as any movement at all sends razor-sharp pains through him.
"Is this…" he starts, with a dried-out, scratchy voice. He stops to clear his throat, then continues. "...is this my hell? To see YOU every time I wake up?"
RJ nods at that, taking the hit with amazingly good humor. "Tha's good...I like that...but...no. This is the LAST time you'll ever see MY handsome black face."
Dean studies him for a moment then looks around at the room. "Where the hell are we?" he asks, still groggy, kind of confused on why he's here, what was happening before he got here.
"Well, I think this could officially be called the middle of fuckin' nowhere. But… map-wise, we right on the line. Canada just be up the road. Tha's all I know. I don't even think this burg HAS a name and that's what so great about it."
Dean takes a deep breath, which hurts, of course. He winces, tries to look down at himself, at his arm tied up in a sling. He drifts a moment and it all comes rushing back… the house, the boys, the… monsters. Panic starts to build but he stops it. Needs more info. He drags his gaze to RJ.
"You shot me! Twice!"
"That I did."
"May I ask WHY? First time, I was going for ROSEANNE. To stop that bitch. Second time, to stop fuckin' Manning—"
RJ puts a hand out to cut Dean off. "I found myself in a bit of a dilemma. I wanted to kill you BOTH. You AND Manning. I was gonna watch that tête-à-tête play out all the way. Gun versus knife. Asshole versus asshole. But Téa...she wouldn't let me."
Dean makes a face at that. "What do you mean?"
RJ sighs, getting up from the chair. He paces back and forth, running a hand over his braids. "She didn't want him hurt. She BEGGED me to stop you from killin' him."
Dean stares at him, thoughtfully, taking that in. It gets quiet for a moment, then Dean looks back at him again, squinting, starting to get an idea of where this is heading.
"So...you shot ME," he starts, thinking it through, a new reality starting to sink in. "And Téa thinks I'm… dead."
RJ bows slightly in response then leans up against the wall.
Dean sinks deeper into the gurney's flimsy padding, his face taking on a different look as he stares off into space.
"What about Manning?" he asks in a faraway voice.
RJ shrugs. "Well, you saw… knocked him out cold. He has no idea what happened. Neither does SHE ...and I wanna KEEP it that way."
Dean shuts his eyes, starting to feel the whole of his insides falling into itself. His heart… starting to crack. Eyes still closed, he says: "I don't ...I don't understand how this helps her at all. Manning's...a fuckin'..." He trails off, becoming preoccupied with pain.
RJ moves back over to the chair and sits down again, closer this time.
"Yeah. I know EXACTLY what you mean. He's ALL that and SO much more...but that fuckin' girl...she crazy. Crazy as he is. I don't know how else to explain it."
Dean opens his eyes again, but can only manage a half-lidded look at RJ.
"She really chose him...?" he whispers.
RJ nods sadly, deeper thoughts tossing about in his head. He isn't telling the truth exactly. Téa didn't actually choose out loud. RJ did the choosing for her but only because of the look in her eyes, her grip of his jacket sleeve… when RJ saw Todd bearing down on Dean about to kill him. She didn't know she was choosing in that very moment.
But she did.
RJ...wait! Don't hurt Todd…
"Y'know, man," RJ says, his voice heavy, weighted with sympathy, "I don't think there's ever gonna be a way to truly UNDERSTAND any of this, but I think what you and I both need to accept is the fact that Téa and Todd are CHAINED together...forever. And ever, AND EVER. Even though it goes against every logical law in the universe. Nah...when it comes down to it...you and I, my brother, we're NOTHING. We are insignificant… immaterial… irrelevant. OUR feelings, OUR sacrifices, no matter how noble or admirable or well-intentioned… don't make ONE DAMNED BIT o'difference. And if we don't separate ourselves… we'll just end up goin' crazy, too."
Dean lingers on RJ's honest face but he has to close his eyes again, feeling them starting to hurt with a rare urge to just cry. Téa.
RJ watches Dean's face twist with discomfort, fatigue...and now sorrow, and he sighs, really feeling badly for the guy. Empathy. Shelton ain't no saint, a real bastard for ever getting caught up with Roseanne in the first place but… man, Téa really did a number on him.
"I'm sorry, man," RJ says, "I'm sorry I had to fuck you up this bad. But I think...this is the best thing for everyone involved-the best thing for US," he amends. "We BOTH need to cut loose of 'em… and now we can."
"I thought Téa was your best friend," Dean says softly, almost whispering.
RJ makes a pained face at that. "She was," he replies...and Dean finally opens his eyes again, looking back at him.
"You're not worried about her, leaving her with Manning?"
RJ just shrugs, weakly. "'Course I am. But there ain't nothing I can do. Nothing else YOU can do...or anybody. Their road is only big enough for THEM. I only hope those kids don't get lost along the way, too."
God...the kids… Dean sighs at that, suddenly seeing them in his head, a slight panic rising again. "They didn't get hurt, did they?"
RJ shakes his head. "Not THIS time," he replies. Another heavy silence weighs on them both...then RJ glances at his watch and sighs. "I gotta get movin'. I still have to ditch the car before I head back so…"
Dean nods slightly. "So what happens to me now?" he asks, as RJ stands up, looking down at him through his curtain of braids.
"Nothin'. Just stay here and rest 'til you well enough to move. The guys here are my friends. They know the deal, they'll take good care o' you. And when you ready, they'll help you get across the border into some other friendly hands...provided, of course, that you COMPENSATE them adequately. I trust you have the funds to do that?"
Dean eyes him coolly, but respectfully. He nods again.
RJ nods back, sighing again. "Well, I guess...this is goodbye," he says, with an odd lightness. Dean picks up on it, understanding just how bizarre this whole thing has been.
"I suppose I should thank you," he says. "For the record… I think I coulda taken Manning down. I wouldn't have missed."
RJ chuckles a little, tilts his head. "Nahhh… he had his boot on you. He was absolutely gonna win. He's a monster with that blade."
"Fuck you," Dean says.
And RJ chuckles a bit more. "Just do yourself a favor," he starts… and Dean quirks, waiting. "If you get an urge to pick up a PHONE sometime in the future...DON'T."
Dean takes that in with a laugh… a sad one.
RJ bends slightly to get closer to him, lowering his voice. "My advice? Take this opportunity… grab it… and run. Get as FAR AWAY as you can and START OVER. That's what I'm gonna do," he says… then with a last look of understanding between them, RJ turns and heads for the door. He stops about halfway out, though, and turns back.
"Take care of yourself, man."
Dean nods at him. "Thanks...you too," he answers… then RJ slips out, quietly closing the door.
The silence that fills the room immediately afterward is so heavy and deafening, it almost makes Dean scream. He wants nothing more at the moment than to tear around the room and punch holes in the wall or find a gun, put it to his own head, and destroy all of Gannon's hard work to save his rotten life. But of course...he can't. He can't do anything except lie there. And this...is his new reality. It shouldn't bother him, the idea of having to become someone else, having to start over in a different place.
He's done it before.
And Téa's choosing of Todd over him shouldn't bother him either. He knew it was coming all along, really. But still… right now… it's turning his insides out. He can still feel that fuckin' boot on his belly, that steel blade at his throat, that goddamn mind-reading shit. At that very instant… Dean remembers a fleeting thought that passed through his head. A last thought before he pulled the trigger, hoping the bullet would get Todd before the knife got him.
Please don't hurt me.
And that fucker above him… just grinned.
He's never hurt so badly in his life… never felt so low, so hopeless.
"Why didn't you just let him kill me, man? Why didn't YOU just kill me," he whispers to a long-gone RJ Gannon. And all he can come up with at this point is that this is the cosmos' way of getting back at him. After all, he was the one who started it all…
If I hadn't agreed to work with that stupid cop and kidnap the little girl… none of this would have happened. So it's all MY fault. All the more reason Gannon should have aimed more towards the center.
The old Jamaican doctor enters the room then, giving Dean a polite smile, as he readies an injection of morphine. Dean eyes him, but says nothing… just watches as he pushes the syringe into the IV, feeling the dull pain of the cold liquid shooting up his arm.
"You rest now. Try not to worry about not'ing," the doctor says gently. The quick and total relaxation of his limbs and numbing of his brain causes the held tears to fall and he sinks back into a quiet unconsciousness with a picture of Téa stuck to the backs of his closing eyes.
That dreamy picture he saw way back when he envisioned her, her kids, and him...all together on some sunny day. And he makes a promise to himself then and there…
...never to envision anything...ever again.
At least fifty times on the drive back to the Atherton house, RJ tells himself to turn around-or pass the place by. He isn't sure anymore what it is that's keeping him on this road, it is he still feels the need to attend to other people's needs.
Maybe it's the kids...those poor, poor kids, god help 'em, he thinks with a shake of his head. If anyone was going to have it hard-and if there was anyone who really didn't deserve any of this-it was those children. They never asked to be brought down to this crazy world, especially under such horrible circumstances…
...with such insane parents.
He doesn't even know what to hope for the boys, except maybe that Téa will get her head straight. He can't even think of Todd's future, how he might be as a father, if he should even be involved in those kids' lives at all. He's too far beyond RJ's comprehension at this point, it's too much to try and think anything about him. He certainly can't imagine Todd going to PTA meetings or ball games. Nope...Téa would have to do all that, and leave Todd to his sole job-trying to maintain the appearance of being a semi-normal person which, it seems, he's always sucked at anyway.
He shakes his head again, as he pulls off the main road and starts up the access road to the house. He slows down, and then stops, dropping his head onto the steering wheel. He rests there for a moment, trying to put all remaining thoughts of Shelton out of his head. He doesn't want Téa-and especially Todd, the mind-reading freak-to be able to guess anything.
Shelton's dead...dead, dead, dead...just keep thinking it.
In fact, this is the crux of his needed separation from Téa. He cannot ever allow Todd to learn that Shelton is alive. To tell Téa, to be in any space with Manning… could lead to the secret escaping.
And Shelton then… could die. For real. It is RJ's love of Téa that protects Shelton.
He takes several deep, deep breaths, to counter his desire to weep for what might be the lifelong loss of his best friend. God damn this hurts. He then puts his game face on and continues on, watching the early morning sunlight breaking through the holes in the tree canopy...a truly lovely sight. It give RJ an odd sense of hope, even though things couldn't be more hopeless at the moment.
When he clears the trees and sees the house, the place seems deserted, like no one had been there at all. Instead of going around to the back, RJ stops right in front of the house, wary of ghosts, monsters. He gets out and heads for the front door, a little surprised to find it unlocked.
"Hey...anybody home?" he calls, once inside. No one answers, so he takes a moment to poke around. His eyes are drawn immediately to the office and he walks through the darkened outer reception area into the warm coziness of the inner office.
The sun lights up the whole room and his eyes scan the space, moving over the desk where a nameplate sits on the very edge: Dr. Joely Reese-Atherton. RJ raises his eyebrows at that, remembering the classy, older Englishwoman who had a glass of wine at his club way back when. He takes another quick look around, then leaves the office, mostly out of respect for her things.
He walks down the long hall toward the back door, peering into an open doorway on one side-the guest room where he'd dumped Todd. He stops for a second, seeing the mussed bedding but he's not in there now. He looks to the other side, where the kitchen looms ahead of him.
More signs of life in there...baby things, bottles, dishes. He smells coffee and finds it, a fresh pot on the counter. He then walks over to the sink and fishes a mug out. He rinses it off and wipes it dry, then pouring the coffee, silently apologizing to Dr. Atherton for helping himself. He walks out with the mug in hand, heading out the back door...back toward the scene of the crimes.
The yard looks amazingly normal, considering what went on not that long ago. RJ sees Shelton's blood on the ground, but if he didn't know what happened, he'd never notice it. He shakes his head, hoping that poor Dr. Atherton will never find out. All this woman ever did was try to help Todd…
And what does she get in return? A fucking bloodbath in her backyard.
He sighs, his eyes following a beaten footpath to another building...a cabin. He sees movement inside, and calls out again.
"Hey!"
A silhouette of a figure appears in the doorway, and then emerges...Téa, looking pale, disheveled...like absolute crap. She stops on the steps, just looking at him with no particular expression, not saying anything.
RJ walks over to her, stopping a few feet away. "You alright?" he asks, and she nods… but again, says nothing. RJ eyes her for a moment, and then takes another gulp of coffee. "So where is he?"
Téa tips her head back toward the cabin.
"I'm giving him some time with the boys," she finally says, so softly RJ can barely hear her. He steps closer, as does she, coming down the steps.
"You think that's a good idea?" RJ asks, and she shakes her head, shrugging.
"I have no idea. I just figured he should have some time with them before I leave."
He looks surprised, even though he had no expectations. "Where you going?"
Téa takes a deep breath, rolling her shoulder, wincing a little at the pain in her arm. "Umm...I was hoping that you could give me a ride to Great Falls. And then from there...I'll make my way to San Juan. Take the boys to meet my Abuelita."
RJ softens at her words, almost melting into a smile with the wave of relief washing over him. It's the most sensible thing he's heard from her in ages. He nods at her...then his face changes, becoming more concerned. "Wait...does he know?"
"Yes. But he's staying here, waiting for Joely to come back," she replies.
RJ cocks an eyebrow. "Really?"
Téa nods again, knowing what he's thinking. "He's not going to follow us...he promised. Besides...he really SHOULD be with Joely now. She's very sick, and...probably won't be around much longer."
RJ's crinkles with pity to which Tea replies, "Yeah, she has cancer."
"Ohhhh...damn," he mutters, tossing the rest of the coffee away with a heavy sigh. Silence hangs heavy between them for a moment...then RJ says, "I'll bring the car around."
And she nods, sniffing. "I'll get the boys ready."
RJ turns and starts to head back, when he hears another voice behind him.
"Gannon."
It's dusty, it's got a permanent etch in it like a teardrop tattoo.
RJ stops, shutting his eyes and just waits, without turning around.
He's dead...he's dead...he's dead…
He repeats it over and over, feeling Todd digging around in his head from way back on the cabin's porch. He envisions the pyre, the dead body going up in flames.
"Aren't you going to tell us what you've been up to all this time?"
Back still turned, RJ half-laughs to himself. "NO," he replies, loud and clear, before turning back around. He takes a moment to look at them both, one at a time, more carefully than he's ever looked at them before. "But I will tell you THIS, since you're both here, and...conscious. After today… you won't see me again. I am SO...DONE with y'all...I can't even tell you."
RJ sees Téa's eyes filling with that hurt again, that painful disbelief while Todd just doesn't seem to give a shit. Not that RJ figured he would. So he looks back at Téa, focusing on her.
"I'm sorry, baby. I don't mean to be cold...but I just..." he starts, finding it suddenly hard to get the words out. "...look, I did what you asked. But I don't understand you anymore...and I certainly can't hang with you if you're staying with HIM, so..." He gestures toward Todd, but doesn't look at him. "...I WILL take you to Great Falls. I WILL make sure you get to PR safe and sound. But after that..." he just shakes his head then he turns and keeps walking.
Stunned, Téa looks up at Todd who says nothing, is utterly unmoved. She then seems to switch to autopilot, walking up the steps past him to go inside.
Todd keeps his eyes on RJ, though, feeling the slightest twinge of...something. But he can't pin it down, not in the shape he's in right now… and he finds that he doesn't really care anyway. So he dismisses it, rubbing the aching muscles in his neck. He hears Téa moving around, getting things together, so he goes in after her. He watches her as she bundles the kids up, buckling them into their seats. Todd shuffles over and squats down to the boys' eye-level, to look at them, to speak to them without Téa hearing.
He caresses their cheeks, touches their silken heads.
Sorry about this...so very sorry. But it's necessary. I love you both...and I'll see you soon, okay...?
He sniffs back the tears that are threatening to fall and he kisses each child on the forehead. He picks up both seats and follows Téa outside, just in time to see RJ pull the car up. He gets out and starts to come around to help, but he locks eyes with Todd for just a second and it's clear that he wants to be the one to get the boys situated.
So RJ stays put, leaning on the roof of the car, watching Todd and Téa interact for what should be the last time. Without hesitation, he thinks to himself suddenly and loudly that he wants this to be the last time they ever lay eyes on each other.
Todd senses that. Hears RJ's innermost wish and he's pretty sure maybe this is one birthday candle that might actually work.
He stands up after getting the boys in the car, afraid to face Téa, feeling the end of things rapidly approaching.
Téa sighs, looking down at their sons, all safe and sound, ready to run again. She feels tears welling up and tries to hold them back. "I'll
try to call you from the airport. If not, I'll call when we get settled." She says this as professionally as possible, but her voice shakes and it makes Todd look at her. He sees a sort-of reflection, a mirror of his own sadness in her eyes. He nods, feeling the stress in his jaw as he bites down hard to keep calm. Téa lifts her hands, not sure what to do with them. Todd watches those beautiful capable hands fumbling about, rolling into fists, clenching, unclenching, then start rubbing her neck, smoothing her hair.
Finally, he lets out a hard breath and grabs her, pulling her into an embrace before she can say anything.
She doesn't fight him at all and for a moment, the animosity vanishes as she cries in his arms, not really returning the embrace. She presses her face hard against his before pulling back a bit to look him in the eye. Nothing feels right at this moment, no words, no action seems appropriate. All they can do is look at each other until it becomes unbearable. Téa feels the window of time closing, her will to leave diminishing with every second.
Madness… sheer madness.
Her body starts to react, squirming uncomfortably like a bird that desperately wants to fly. Todd feels his will to let her go diminishing as well and his body reacts in turn, loosening his grip on her. She half-pushes, half-pulls away from him and gets into the car before she can change her mind.
RJ marvels at what he just witnessed. Even after everything...the craziest, most intense thing lingers between them. It's powerful and palpable, even after everything. He shakes his head, then sighs, looking at Todd, who looks back at him. Again, nothing seems appropriate. RJ just acknowledges Todd with a slight nod, then gets in the car and starts it up.
As they drive away, Téa feels that same pulling on her insides again. She doesn't have to look behind her to know that Todd is standing there, watching. But she's back to not feeling anything about it, about him, even though it was difficult for her to leave just now.
She has no idea what will become of her, of him, of the boys...or if they'll ever see each other again. She can't foresee anything. She feels empty, as close to dead as one can get without actually being dead.
And all she can think is that they've all died today...not just Roseanne, not just Dean...but all of them.
# # # #
The afternoon brings the most brilliant sun to the horizon backing Joely's home. Light calls out the colors of the rocks, the trees, the flowers. Light makes the baby animals scamper out of their nests, out of their burrows to play as if the day would never end. From the guest house, peeking out in between the barely-open curtains, a sullen Todd watches the birds flitter from nest to nest, from branch to branch, singing melodic songs with no lyrics, singing messages hidden from him. They play with each other, two others battle for the rights to a berry, one mother fights off a snake trying to get at her unborn. The images, the dramas, have captured him, have paralyzed him for hours.
Suddenly, a large white van pulls around to the back of the main house, an easier way to get inside.
There's a sign on the side of the van reading, Bright Views Cancer Center. The doors to the vehicle open and a broad, dark-skinned man in a blue bus-driver's uniform hops out, calling cheerfully, "Here you are, Ms. Atherton."
A youngish woman with brown hair in a bun and dressed in a nurse's uniform emerges, waiting patiently as the lift eases the wheelchair down onto the ground. Joely offers her the warmest smile and says something soft that can't be heard unless you're right in front of her. The nurse laughs and nods in agreement, getting behind the chair and pushing it a couple of feet to the door. She helps Joely up, and walks with her inside. The few steps taken are delicate, frail. Her condition is clear.
Todd closes the drapes and lies down on the couch. Waiting for the van to leave. Waiting for the sun to set.
Hours later when the sky is dark and truths can hide he gets up and goes outside. He walks across the yard to the back door of the main house. He turns the knob, knowing it would be unlocked. A bell chimes when the door opens. He closes it respectfully. The inside is warm, lovely as always and he breathes in the aroma of her favorite cookies. Classical music comes from the office as usual, and he walks toward the sounds, feeling like something inhuman, like Frankenstein in that old horror movie, drawn to the music. He stands in the open archway leading to the office and from one of the comfy, overstuffed chairs, Joely sees him and smiles weakly, saying, "Thought you might be a burglar… then I recognized those soft steps of yours. Thank god... I might have been in real trouble."
They look each other in the eyes for a bit, quiet. Her smile fades and in its place is an exhausted, but sympathetic gaze. An apology
"I'm sorry, love. I wish I were healthier, I'd get right up and hug you. Most American, I'm afraid."
Todd blinks and turns, heading into the kitchen. He takes a teapot off the stove, opening the cover and sees there's no water. He fills it and puts it back on the stove to boil. While the water heats, he opens a cupboard to the left of the sink across the room and takes down an ivory-colored teacup decorated with the most lively of purple and green violets, the leaves twisting and twirling along the top and the bottom of the cup. He takes a matching saucer for it. He opens another cupboard and takes down a box of English Téa. Tea in tea bags, most American. When the teapot squeals, he takes a pot holder and grasps the wooden handle, pouring the piping water into the cup. Letting it steep for a few moments. He puts the cup and saucer on a silver tray and carries it to Joely, placing the tray on a side table, where she can reach.
She sighs and smiles at him, "All this time away and you still remember my favorite tea."
"I haven't forgotten everything," he says raggedly.
"Come closer. Let me look at you." He does after some minutes of deliberation, sinking to the ground at her feet, looking up at her. His eyes start to water, not only at her frail appearance, but also at being in her presence again. He's overwhelmed by her silent power, a woman as strong as ever, even with her illness. His face scrunches up a bit as he struggles to keep a lid on his emotions.
"So...how long?" he asks softly and she wrinkles her brow.
"Do I have, you mean?"
"No...I mean, how long have you been sick?" She sighs at that, needing to sit back. Every breath she takes is hard labor. Todd sees the blanket slipping off of her legs and pulls it back up. She smiles at him again.
"Long enough," she answers.
"Why didn't you tell me?" She makes a face at that, shaking her head, eyes half-closed.
"Wasn't appropriate at the time. You were the patient, I was the doctor. Not the other way 'round."
He nods, biting his lip. "I hope you don't mind that I've been staying here." He falters and looks up at her with a lost puppy's eyes belying the actuality of him. "It's just that I...I don't have anywhere else to go."
She gestures for him to move even closer. Looks at the cut above his brow, the scratches on his face. Then she takes his hand and looks at the brown slivers beneath his nails, wondering if they're mud or blood. She closes her eyes and caresses his hair, like a mother would. Then she sighs again.
"Why don't you hand me my téa and start at the beginning," she says in her most professional tone. Todd puts the cup in her hands and she sits back, taking small sips.
"Tell me...when did you first feel yourself beginning to break?"
Through the cabin's window, the ocean's waves give the bright blue a most luscious, welcoming lure and Téa easily imagines the water against her skin, the coolness, the briny taste on her lips, the pull of the current. She hopes her boys will experience the Puerto Rican beaches as five or six year olds, the fine sand beneath their tireless bare feet, mango juice running down their chins. Such memories would last them a lifetime. They'd replace any remnants of the past few weeks because the islands are pure magic. It's always where she wants to go when life overwhelms her. She hopes the magic is enough because life has never overwhelmed her to this degree before.
RJ had put them on a private jet to San Juan as it was the only place Téa wanted to go. Saying goodbye to him was hard, knowing that she'd lost him and had no hope of getting him back. All the way up to the last minute, she tried, tried to get him to talk it over, tried to apologize, but he wouldn't have it. He just didn't want to hear it anymore and she could see that he had to distance himself for his own good...his own sanity.
She understands that all too well and can only hope that he finds a little peace somewhere, some clarity. Something she desperately needs, too, and she thinks she'll find it, even though Roseanne tried to poison this place, tried to use Puerto Rico against her. The water rushes below her as the plane bumps with the lowering of the landing gear. Mere minutes and she's be home.
"Look, you guys, look at the green, nothing like England, this is the real thing," she says, and they both grin at her and giggle, not understanding a word, but it doesn't matter. It is heavenly to hear them. Heaven. Again, she thinks they've all died in one way or another; and now they're all at the point where they simply have to start over.
"Welcome to San Juan," the pilot announces.
Téa looks at her boys again and for the first time in her new life, she smiles.
FIN
NOTE FROM AUTHOR: Thank you for reading! It's been a long while since I myself read these last chapters, long time since I saw what a truly tragic story Todd Manning is. I suspect cannon Todd was never meant to survive. This ending is true to that trajectory. There is an epilogue but I'm choosing to embed it in an unfinished story I will post at a later date. The reason is because in re-reading it, it detracted from the tragedy. It was driven by a personal desire to change a truth. Todd's truth. All my stories save him. He is immortal. But here death came to him in a way that was likely, supernatural elements aside. In the real world, death is permanent. This ending is a "real" ending. Would they make their way back to each other? Could they? Can monsters be loved?
That's another story, isn't it?
Cabbie