Chapter 68.
October 8, 2020.
Glimpses.
It was chilly underground.
Owen gazed around at age-old rock formations, doing his best to show interest. He was exhausted. It was the last day of their camping trip and they would be headed home that evening. Everything was packed up in the car. One last activity – a brief tour through a famous cave system – separated him from a deserved rest in his own bed.
It had been a long few days, but the boys were still bursting with energy. Bailey led the way down the path, occasionally breaking into a run, earning a quick reprimand from his father, and Collin trudged along behind him, his disabled leg causing him more trouble than usual. Bailey had been running him ragged, but Collin loved it. He persevered.
"Regretting it yet?" Owen wondered, glancing back to find Derek lagging.
Derek paused, leaning on the railing to catch his breath. "A lot more uphill than I was anticipating."
"There's no shame in getting old," Owen said.
Derek gave him a brief glare, and then started walking again, passing him. Owen snorted. Derek said, "Was there ever any chance he would grow out of it?" with a glance at Collin.
Owen watched the boy hobble along. "No. But his surgery is coming up in December."
"Meredith and I are having a disagreement in that department," Derek said.
"About the Lexie's scar?" Owen said.
"Lexie doesn't care about it, not really. She asks sometimes why her neck looks different than her sister's, but that's normal. I think we should put it off as long as possible. I mean, for God's sake she's three years old. She's been through enough already."
Alexandra Shepherd was born with her umbilical cord constricting her neck. Her rapid entry into the world had exasperated the problem and nearly crushed her trachea. Alex performed a damaging emergency procedure, and Lexie was left with an ugly scar on her throat. Meredith had been weary of plastic surgery, so close to tragedy that any potential loss sent her spiraling. Owen was unsure where he stood on the matter – and it was of no consequence, because Lexie was not his daughter.
It seemed they were taking turns, swapping sides. Owen wondered where it would end up, who would win this weird battle of wills.
He could see both perspectives, but he had to be neutral.
Derek went on, "Meredith wants to do it when she's least likely to remember it."
"Time's running out for that."
Derek sighed.
"Maybe you guys can-" Owen started, but didn't finish.
They had just rounded a corner, turning to the right, and the tour guide was going on about a crystal formation beyond the railing. But to the left, standing on the opposite path, was Bailey. And he was alone. He looked guilty.
Adrenaline rushed in. His heart started to race. Owen said, "Where's Collin?"
Bailey pointed behind him, "He got scared and ran that way. I couldn't fit in the hole, so I came back to get you."
Owen was jogging down the path before the boy finished his sentence. Derek said something. Bailey said something. Owen heard nothing but blood pounding in his ears.
"Collin?" he called, peeking into every hole, event he ones too small for a kid to crawl through. Logic was out the window. Every second brought him closer to panic.
And a memory emerged, provoked, from the distant path.
Before Collin. Before Christina.
He was on a battlefield, a stretch of desert, running along an outcropping of rocks. He had his hand on the soldier in front of him and felt the tug of his tail in a steady rhythm. Left foot, right foot. A surge of speed. A slowdown. Bullets sprayed the sand in the distance. He was a noncombatant, not meant to be out here, fresh off the plane. But things had changed so quickly.
Someone shouted, "Grenade!" and the whole line splintered.
Soldiers hit the ground all around, taking cover between the rocks. Owen was dragged down by his tail. Owen knew him as Buck. He had no idea what his first name was.
But he was suddenly gone. For a moment, everyone was. The spray of sand obscured every soldier in the line, their muddy yellow fatigues fading into the background. For a brief, terrifying moment, he was alone. It didn't matter that they were all right there beside him, banged up, but alive. It didn't matter that Buck grabbed him, righted him, and guided him to safety. He was young, he was afraid, and the feeling was burned into his brain.
He was half aware that he was still in the cave, still searching. Sand shifted to dark rock, and back again. He heard Derek's voice, and Buck's, blending together, the words not making sense.
He made it to the end, where the tunnel veered off to a gated-off employee-only area and hit his knees in front of a boy-sized tunnel. It was dark inside, too dark to see.
"Collin?" Owen said, dragging himself back into the present. He tried to look unthreatening, despite how unnerving his trip to the desert had been. "Hey, buddy, you can come out. Are you in there? It's okay."
Derek appeared at his shoulder, shining a phone flashlight into the hole.
Collin was there, curled up at the back, blue eyes almost glowing in the dark.
"Come here," Owen said softly, holding out his hand. "What's wrong? What happened? Did you get scared? It's okay. I'm here."
Maybe those weren't comforting words to a kid who only liked him sometimes.
And then Collin said, "Dark."
On the few occasions these past years that Owen had heard his voice, Collin had never sounded so scared. "I know, buddy," Owen said. "It's not as dark out here, baby. We can go back outside where the sun is, okay? I'll take you back out. You just gotta come out of there first."
Collin touched his mangled leg, "I fell down."
"Did you hurt you leg?" Owen asked.
"I fell down with Mommy," Collin said.
Owen realized what the boy was saying – and it threw him. Collin had a rough start. His mother didn't want him, and Cristina was his only friend. And they fell down a sinkhole together when he was a baby. It crushed his leg, gave him compartment syndrome. He was big enough now to have corrective surgery, to hopefully help him walk like a normal kid.
He never imagined Collin could remember it.
Maybe he had glimpses, surprise visits to the past – just like Owen.
"I know you did," Owen said. "But that was a long time ago, and if I was there I would have pulled you out. Come closer and I'll get you out of here. I promise."
Collin sat staring at him for over a minute, wordless, and then he got on his knees and crawled out of the hole. He had to wiggle through the end. He stood up, considered his options, and then threw his arms around Owen's neck.
He rested his head on Owen's shoulder and murmured, "I wanna go home."
"Me too, baby," Owen said, holding onto him tightly, like the kid might vanish at any moment. As frustrating, mean, and unfair as the boy could be, Owen would always be his protective shell. Sometimes it was like holding onto fire, burning himself, breaking down his strength.
Owen turned, finding the tour group paused at the junction, all eyes on them. Derek stood by his side, a hand on Bailey, waiting.
"I'll take him out," Owen said, "Sorry, everyone."
He carried Collin back through the tour path, following illuminated exit signs. Collin held onto him the whole way, not even turning his head. Owen thought his eyes might be closed.
When they stepped into the daylight, Collin peeled himself away, gazing around, squinting. He turned his pretty eyes on Owen's face, hyper focused, and didn't look away all the way to the car. They were both coming down from their encounters with the past.
"We'll wait for Derek and Bailey to be done, and then we'll head home, okay?" Owen said, setting Collin down near the back of the SUV.
Collin hopped up into the tailgate, leaning against their suitcases.
Owen sat beside him, arms crossed, until he remembered that Cristina had packed a few of his sensory toys for difficult moments. He rifled around, pulling a colorful block from the bag and holding it out for Collin. "You wanna look at this, bud?"
Collin stared at the toy, and then shook his head. He grabbed Owen's wrist instead, drawing it toward him. Owen sat perfectly while Colling occupied himself with bending his fingers, turning his hand over, tracing the lines on his palm. He would never understand the way Collin thought, the complex workings of his atypical brain, but maybe one day he would find ways to connect to him. Right now, their relationship was tumultuous.
When the tour was over and the other half of their party returned, they set off without much discussion. Derek pulled into a fast food place and the boys ate, and then slept. Owen stared out the window, comforted by the presence of trees, underbrush, soil. No sand.
"You okay?" Derek said, just a few minutes from home.
Owen didn't look over. "Yeah."
"I don't know who was more freaked out down there – you or Collin," Derek said.
It was noticeable, then.
Owen felt a prickle of shame, vulnerability. But Derek was one of the people who was aware of his issues. He had been there for Owen in the darkest times.
"I'm fine," Owen said. "It was nothing."
Derek was not convinced, but he dropped the topic.
Owen had a heavy heart as his home came into view. He hoped this was a fluke, a glitch. It was just Collin disappearing that had triggered it, and it was gone just as quickly as it came. But there was always that worry in the back of his mind, the anxiety. If it came back in full force, would he realize it? Would he try to hide it, try to fight it?
When he glanced in the rearview mirror, Collin was looking right at him. It was almost like he saw through him, recognized his unease.
