12. Smile
Rocky Horror does not belong to me; it belongs to the eternally awesome Richard O'Brien.
This story is rated T. (If it should be an M, I'll change it.)
So, what's my next patience-testing long-story-short about why this chapter took so long? Well, it's like this: I finally got a full-time job in September, and it took some adjusting to, which made concentrating on writing difficult. Thankfully, I've now settled into a groove and I can actually put some time in on this story on a regular basis. Fingers crossed...
Thanks to everyone who left a comment, and everyone who's checked this story out. You all rock!
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A few days had passed, and when she flexed her bad toe, it didn't hurt as much. (It still hurt like hell, but now on a scale of one to ten, it was around five-and-a-half.) She was doing her best to stay off that foot, even though she didn't like to keep still, and she was following the doctor's orders.
Bracing herself for the rush of cold, she pulled the covers back and put her feet on the floor after hours of lying half-asleep, her mind still hazy except for one definite idea: she needed to start moving on. She'd known the stages of grief since she was 16 (thanks to Cousin Laura). In her case, she'd skipped Denial and Bargaining, and smushed Anger and Depression into one. That only left Acceptance.
Yeah, right. Watching your boyfriend get turned to mincemeat wasn't something you got over in a hurry.
Regardless, if her attempts at keeping herself busy brought up memories of Eddie no matter what, then it was clear she'd need a different approach. After all, she'd never been afraid to try new things before.
Well, she could take things slow. Today was a new day.
She hobbled over to her vanity, blinking at her reflection with its unruly mass of red hair and traces of makeup she'd missed with the remover. Picking up her brush and turning her radio on, she started gently working through the tangles, wincing at every knot.
By now, she could do her hair without really needing to concentrate, so she let her eyes wander the many photos cluttering the frame of her mirror. Her mood began to improve already as the captured memories paraded by: growing up and practicing routines in her little living room, grinning next to the people she met on the road, and just things she'd snapped around the castle (her favorite of the bunch being from the time she dragged Magenta into a drug store photo booth).
Speaking of, that set of photos looked like it was coming loose. She reached out to straighten it and dislodged another photo in the process. Thankfully, it only fluttered to the top of the vanity, so she wouldn't have to bend in three different directions just to stoop to the floor.
She picked the picture up and the corners of her lips turned into a smile. The photo was of Eddie, sitting on his motorcycle and effortlessly looking cool, the only way he knew how. Her finger traced the outline of the biker, and her smile dropped away as that all-too familiar prick came into her eyes.
Well, she'd been taught that the best way to start dealing with a problem was to talk about it. Talking to a photograph surely counted, right?
"You wouldn't know what to do, would you, Eddie?" She asked, still too tired to care how silly she looked. "I'm stuck. I don't want to keep going in circles, but I miss you so much, and I can't forget what happened-" Her voice caught, but she powered through it. "You always knew what to say before. Any ideas now?"
A face flashed across her mind, a tan face with a full head of blond hair. Almost impulsively, she shuddered, a surge of anger rising within her. He just had to show up, didn't he? When Eddie came back, when she wanted to be alone, even in her dreams!
Maybe she wasn't awake enough to be really angry, or maybe Eddie's photo was somehow influencing her, but that surge soon died away. Instead of getting some energy from her anger, she just felt even more drained than ever.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror, lost and bleary-eyed. Anger and hopelessness didn't look good on anyone (and having to weather another Jack-induced hangover was getting less appealing than it used to be).
She thought back to that night. Eddie had just been cut to ribbons and what did Rocky have to say?
"He's so ugly."
That hurt. It was probably always going to, but it was also never meant for her. It's not like he had any idea what was going to happen; she sure as hell didn't. He was just reacting to what was going on around him. If a stranger with a gaping hole in their head burst out of a freezer, she wouldn't think it was a pretty sight either.
Besides, he did help her get back to her room after her injury, despite her snapping at him (again). And he had sat with her during the Christmas party, even during her onslaught of abuse. The only person he really had for company was Frank, who was either glued to his creation's hip or leaving him alone despite his obsession.
Come to think of it, she didn't really have anyone either. Sure, there was Magenta, but she had a life of her own. Besides, she'd be lying if she didn't admit that he was easy to look at (albeit in a completely different way from Eddie).
Maybe, just maybe…
Was she dreaming or had she actually been feeling bad for Rocky?
Looking back at the photo in her hand, she thought Eddie was actually looking back at her. His expression was...admonishing? She half-expected him to start moving, to say "Come on, this whole thing sucks for both of you right now."
"But I...I hate this guy." Her voice lacked conviction and just sounded pathetic. "How can I feel bad for him?"
A voice that had to be Eddie (or rather, her mind doing its best Eddie impression) answered Because you don't hate him as much as you think you do. Really? If she didn't hate him, then what did she feel?
That was just it. She didn't know enough about him, not that there was much to know.
Hey, that wasn't fair. She hated when people thought there wasn't much to her. He probably hated it too. Did she know for sure? No...but she could find out. She could just go up, say "Hi," ask him about being underestimated, and he'd probably answer.
Just one problem. As far as he knew, she hated his guts. (Yes, she'd been happy after he helped her back to her room, but she always thought she was just going delirious from the pain.) She couldn't just do something to make up for all that; it wasn't that easy.
If I have to beg and plead for your sympathy,
I don't mind, 'cause you mean that much to me.
The smooth crooning of the Temptations brought her out of her daze. "Ain't Too Proud to Beg?" Sure, she enjoyed this song, but it was all about swallowing your pride and saying what you really wanted to say. What did that have to do with her? Was she supposed to drop to her knees and beg his forgiveness for being so awful?
Oh, wait. That was exactly what she should do. Just thinking about it improved her mood.
She could only shake her head and smile a little as she slid the photo back into the mirror frame. "Okay, Eddie, I can take a hint."
As she went about digging through her drawers for a pair of fuzzy socks, her mind started racing at how to best say "I'm sorry;" the phrase just didn't seem right on its own. It was a struggle to keep focused on this goal while pulling her socks on and grabbing her heavy robe from the back of her door. (Tap dancing helped her think better, but her damn toe still kept that off the table).
Another lesson she'd always been taught was that the best way of understanding someone was putting yourself in their shoes. Ok, she could try that. What would he think?
Happiness and relief that she was making an effort to be nice.
Confused, as he was prone to be about everything.
Skepticism, wariness that she really meant what she said.
Anger at her thinking that she could just make this all go away with two words.
This was gonna be tougher than she thought.
Now I've got a love so deep, in the pit of my heart
And each day it grows more and more
"I wouldn't go that far, guys." She said, switching the radio off. The music died, leaving her with her thoughts. How would she go about doing this?
This train of thought occupied her as she walked through the halls to the stairs, absently waving to a couple scattered phantoms. Should she just say it the first chance she got? What if Frank was with him? The last thing she wanted to do (among many) was answer his questions about why she was apologizing to his beautiful Creature.
Maybe she shouldn't jump into this right away. Maybe she needed a little more time to plan this out properly. She could give painting her nails another go, and Magenta or a Phantom could pinch her when she started zoning out. Or she could work herself back into tapping and try just using her good foot.
No, come on. She could do this, she wasn't afraid...although maybe she could at least wait until after breakfast, get some caffeine into her and build up her energy before deciding on a strategy.
She found herself at the stairs before she knew it. Gripping the railing with one hand, she tilted her bad foot to avoid putting pressure on her toe and set her good foot down on the step below. Shifting her weight made moving her bad foot easier, and soon, she had both feet on the second step from the top.
Ok, so far, so good.
She let out a breath and moved her good foot to the next step, which barely creaked before giving out under the weight. The force launched her forward, her feet propelling like mad as the bottom of the stairs raced into sight. She barely had time to process these events, let alone trying to think of ways to stop herself and also the fact someone was already standing at the bottom. Someone with blond hair and a tan.
Oh God, just what she needed. She hadn't even figured out how to apologize for everything else yet. How was he going to take it after she bowled him over? (And she didn't even want to think of Frank's reaction).
Suddenly, the world stopped. Her toe and her heart throbbed in unison, and she found herself with a very close view of his chest and abs. Her head turned to the right, then the left. He took a step back and she realized he had his hands on her upper arms, steadying her, with a grip both firm and gentle. Slowly, she raised her eyes, almost begging that in those few precious seconds, he'd be gone.
Nope, there he was, looking down at her. This was the closest she'd ever been to him since dancing together that first night. Pushing aside her pounding heart, she looked into his eyes and couldn't believe what she saw: concern.
There was no mistaking it. This guy, created in a lab, who by now was probably more than a little afraid of her, was worried about her well-being. Even Magenta wasn't this open, even though she knew her friend cared in her own, alien way. A tide of anxiety swelled in her chest, and every plan she had for an apology abandoned her mind. If she could only see herself, gaping up at Rocky like a fish.
"Are you ok?" He had to ask?
She felt herself nodding, but the look on her face, whatever it was, must have been less than positive. His arms dropped to his sides and he started walking towards the kitchen. Wait, he was leaving? A couple of months ago, she would have been glad he knew to keep away from her, but now, words bubbled up in her mouth, anything to make him stay.
He was getting away.
Just do it, dammit! Do it!
"I'm sorry."
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Either he was hearing things, or…
No, you're not.
He turned around. "What?"
She seemed just as surprised as he was, but that didn't stop her from taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry about…everything. I've been a huge bitch to you."
What? No, she hasn't.
"No, you haven't."
Words tumbled out of her. "Yes, I have! You haven't done anything to me, and I've been treating you like a piece of shit. I shouldn't have screamed at you, or thrown stuff at you, and I know you really had nothing to do with what happened to Eddie. You've just been trying to figure out what to do with yourself, and how to deal with Frank. Whether you meant to or not, you were there when I needed someone. I said 'Thanks' when you helped me after I hurt my toe, but that's just not enough. I want to make all that up to you. Honest, I do. I don't know how, but things are going to be different between us. That's a promise.
By the time she finished, she was practically panting, her face flushed. He barely noticed as she hobbled to a nearby chair and sank down. The rush of words left his head swimming.
Wow.
At least Eddie had something to say. What was he supposed to do with all that? Just act like everything was normal? He didn't want to blame her - she had a good reason - but he couldn't just let it go. Maybe he could talk to her, but what would he say? She had said everything he could think of to reassure her, or to explain himself. Could he apologize too? Sure, but for what? What had he really done to hurt her? (That whole "ugly" remark came back to mind.)
Hey, calm down. You're gonna give us both a headache.
Right, okay. Take this one step at a time. She apologized. He would accept it and move on.
But he couldn't just leave her alone. Eddie had said that she needed somebody to be there and, well, here he was. A quick look around showed no signs of anyone coming - which hopefully meant Frank wasn't anywhere nearby - and he sat down in the chair next to hers.
He very nearly lifted a hand to pat her on the shoulder or place over hers - little comforting gestures Frank had done to him (at least before taking things further) - but decided against it; no need to ruin the moment by overstepping. "It's okay. You were upset."
All he got in response was a sarcastic snort. "'Upset' doesn't even begin to cover it. I was pissed, and I was looking for someone to be pissed at. You just happened to be right there." She blew out a puff of air as though it were a laugh. "How shitty is it that I go after someone even more powerless than me? I might as well have knocked you down and stolen your lunch money."
How could she do that? Maybe she could make him stumble a bit, but he didn't see how she could actually knock him down. (Besides, he didn't have any money.) Who knew? She probably could; looks were deceiving, after all.
Kid, she's saying you were an easy target who couldn't fight back.
Oh.
That made sense in a horrible way. He thought of all the times before: the screaming, the insults, the show thrown at him. Doing nothing to stop it, feeling terrible because of things he had nothing to do with (intentionally, at least). She didn't notice what she was doing to him, and she probably didn't even care. Hurt, confusion, and maybe a little anger came up.
So did trying to help her at theChristmas party, and being there to get her back to her room with a bad foot. A sadness at seeing her so upset and alone, only being able to do so much (or not at all when Frank was around).
Sitting next to her, an underlying wariness was still going strong, but something held it back. Eddie?
Look, all that was bad and you shouldn't just let it go, but whatever you do, take it easy on her, ok?
He could do that, even though he had so many questions. He turned to look at her, really look at her. Her eyes were puffy with sleep, even in the light of the hall, and her curls were clinging to each other…
Eddie was right. Just letting it go didn't feel right, but he wouldn't hold it all in, either. He'd have to do this one little piece at a time.
"I'm not mad. If that kind of thing happened to me, I think I'd do the same thing."
Oh Gog, I hope not.
If that upset her, she didn't let on as she stared down at her lap.
Was that it? There had to be something else. Otherwise, this was a dead end, and then where would they be?
A pressing question found its way out. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but why did you do all that?"
She slowly looked away, her eyes lowered. Her lips curled into what barely passed as a smile.
Oh, no, he upset her again, the thing he was best at. "Sorry, I shouldn't have asked."
"No, no. It's okay." She shook her head. "I guess...I was expecting you to be Eddie."
That confused them both. What is she talking about? "What do you mean?"
Now she seemed embarrassed, squirming a bit in her seat. "I knew Frank used Eddie's brain for you, so I kind of thought that you would still be Eddie, just in a different body. That's why I danced with you that night. If I got your attention - well, I guess 'his' attention - he'd recognize me and it would be like he was never gone. When I finally realized you weren't, I couldn't handle it."
Damn. Eddie's voice was filled with a sadness that spread all through him. There was nothing he could do about that, but he could still try. "I'm sorry I'm not what you expected." (Frank would tell him he had nothing to apologize for, but he didn't believe that, not now.)
She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't even worry about it. Knowing Frank, I shouldn't have been surprised."
They settled into a silence, broken only by Phantom footsteps.
"It's okay, don't worry." Kid, this is the best conversation you two have had so far. You can do this.
That was true, but now what? She was calm now, but would it last? What if the next thing he said set her off again?
"Listen, I, um," she spoke, interrupting his thoughts "I know I can't take back everything from before, but do you think, maybe, we can start fresh? Like we're meeting each other for the first time?"
That stopped his cycle of thoughts cold. Start over? How? Was it as easy as that?
No. Even he knew they couldn't just go back to that night and do things differently. (Well, maybe they could. Frank might have something that could do that.)
He turned to face her and found she was looking back at him. She had stared at him before, but the focus - almost pleading - in her eyes made it seem like she was really seeing him for the first time. The intensity kept him pinned to his seat, while also making him want to run as fast as he could.
Hey, you've got to take it easy too. You're right; you can't just go back and change things, and who knows what'll happen next? Why not try it and see?
Eddie had a point. This wasn't something he couldn't just ask Frank about (not that he wanted to). Besides, some small part of him wanted to understand her, no matter what. Eddie could only tell him so much. If he could make this work, he'd have to learn what she wanted and liked for himself.
And right now, she clearly wanted an answer.
He could do this.
"Yeah, I'd like that." As soon as he said it, he could feel himself relax, like a weight he didn't even know he was carrying had been lifted.
Her face immediately switched to a big smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Well, in that case, hello, Rocky!" This rather perky greeting, complete with an enthusiastic wave, echoed a little.
Okay, that's spooky.
Maybe, but if this was her way of starting over, he didn't see any reason to not go along with it. "Hello, Columbia!" He yelped, matching her enthusiasm.
He didn't mean to do an even squeakier voice than hers, but instead of getting mad again, she just scrunched her eyes and laughed.
He'd heard some wonderful sounds before: Frank purring in his ear, voice pouring out of the castle speakers, and he could still faintly hear Janet, comforting him and urging him to touch her.
At that moment, all those sounds meant nothing against her laugh. That was a sound of true happiness.
God, I've missed that smile.
The laughter spread to him, and soon, they were both giggling and trying to catch their breath. Eventually, they sighed and leaned back in their chairs, the atmosphere calming with them. He didn't want the moment to end, but he realized he should probably get to the kitchen, before Frank or a servant came looking for him. He started to get up before remembering he wasn't alone.
"Need any help getting to the kitchen?" He asked, turning back to her and tentatively holding out a hand.
A look of relief crossed her face. "Yes, please." She said, accepting the hand. "After running down the stairs, I am going to need so much ice."
They were leaning against each other in no time, and started walking/hobbling through the hall. He knew they would get there before long, but his mind raced with how to stretch out this good mood between them a little longer. "How's your foot feeling?"
She shrugged nonchalantly. "Eh, it's getting better. It's killing me that I still can't dance, though."
"Don't worry. You'll be back before you know it." Had he really just said that? What was he thinking? He didn't know how long a toe took to heal.
She only responded with a quiet laugh. "Yeah, I'm getting there." After this, they settled in a comfortable silence, and the kitchen door soon came into sight.
They were only a few steps away when she patted his shoulder. "We'd better stop here."
Why? The door's right there.
He must have looked just as confused as Eddie as she pulled her arm away. "Frank's probably in there and, well-" she motioned back and forth between them.
"Oh, right." The thought had completely slipped his mind. Frank wouldn't care about the reason; having his arm around anyone else was bad enough.
"Anyway, thanks for the lift." She said, carrying herself to the door and putting her hand against it to push. However, she stopped and looked back at him with a smaller version of that wonderful smile. "And thanks for stopping me back there."
A warmth spread in his chest. "Any time." He said, a smile creeping up his own face.
Maybe it was just the good mood from Eddie's half of brain, but he liked making her smile. How could he keep it up?
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Thanks for reading! See you next chapter!