Mindgames – Part 9
by Pangur Bàn
Rating
(PG, PG13, R) : PG13
Spoilers : probably
Disclaimer: Steven Long Mitchell & Craig W. Van Sickle created the characters of the television series "The Pretender." This fan fiction is purely for entertainment purposes (chiefly my own, admittedly.) No profit is being made here. No infringement is intended.
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The following days beat them into a semblance of a functional routine, but the feeling of family had been shattered. It seemed to have died with Sydney. Depression and grief drove Grace inside herself; to this mix Jarod added anger. Angelo found himself more and more left to his own devices. He frequently left for the woods for hours at a time.
A trip for supplies was badly needed. The evening before, Jarod and Grace discussed what they needed. Reluctantly, the subject of Angelo/Tim was brought up.
"We haven't seen Tim for quite a while," Grace said with a hint of worry. Jarod had to agree. "Not since before..." He didn't finish the sentence.
Grace looked at him gently and nodded. "He's taken it as hard as we have. I'm afraid it may have really hurt him."
"We've been ignoring him, too." Jarod paused, swallowing. "Grace, I know I've been hard on you. I'm sorry."
"We all miss him," she said softly, grieving him silently.
"It must be especially difficult for you. I know that you two had become...close." Jarod recalled coming up on them silently, stalking them during the snowball fight that day. He was surprised but not displeased to see them kissing tenderly, oblivious to Jarod's eyes. He had retraced his steps, not wanting to disturb the moment.
Grace nodded. She looked up at him. "He was very special to you, too, Jarod. We're none of us going to be able to replace him."
They were quiet for a moment. Jarod broke the silence. "I don't know how we're going to get through this." Tears fell from her eyes as she reached across the table and put a hand on his arm. He was unable to meet her eyes. He put his head down on his arms and her hand, weeping. They cried together for the tremendous loss they shared.
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They made a bona fide effort to engage Angelo in conversation on the drive into town the following morning. By unspoken agreement, neither Tim nor Sydney was mentioned. It was their intention to try to reconnect with Angelo, letting him take the lead if he wanted to discuss recent happenings. They talked about trivialities, commenting on the weather, the scenery, the shopping list. Angelo answered in sporadic bursts, aware that some of the underlying tension between his two friends had abated. The intense sadness was still there, though. He, too, missed Sydney. Tim, feeling everything, had retreated to watch. Angelo once again protected him. The two of them frequently conferred in brief but very complete images. Tim was advocating returning to the Centre to get all the things they had stored in various cache-points. Angelo overruled this, impressing on his charge the need to stay away from those who had hurt them for so long.
By the time they had arrived in Coeur d'Alene, Grace and Jarod were worn-out. The little group found a grocery store and began touring the aisles. They spoke little, but observed Angelo who was looking at everything with wide-eyed interest. As they rounded a corner, Jarod nudged Grace and pointed his chin in Angelo's direction. He was sniffing a silk flower bouquet, his eyes expressing confusion. Whether he would know to expect one scent or another, they did not know. It was evident, however, that he expected something. Grace approached him, smiling.
"Pretty flowers, Angelo." He smiled and shrugged. "Do you think they might brighten up the cabin a little?" Angelo looked at her hopefully. The flowers went into the shopping basket and his attention immediately shifted to a small ceramic cat he spied on the shelf. Grace left him with Jarod and continued shopping.
Small talk was limited on the return trip. Both Jarod and Grace were tired, and Angelo kept himself busy with the cat figurine. Back at the cabin, grocery bags were shuttled into the kitchen quickly. Jarod parked the vehicle while Grace began unpacking. Each thought Angelo was with the other. When they discovered him missing, neither was overly concerned. Grace offered to look outside and Jarod said he would start dinner warming.
Donning a coat and boots, she searched the grounds for him. The light was fading fast and she hoped he hadn't gone far. She struck out into the woods and shortly found him sitting on a fallen trunk.
"Hey, Angelo. I was looking for you. Jarod's getting dinner on. Hungry?"
He shook his head and pulled the cat from his pocket. He looked at her meaningfully. Slowly she approached him and sat at his side.
"Sad." Angelo looked at her. "Sad," he repeated for emphasis.
Grace closed her eyes and dropped her chin. "We're all missing Sydney," she said, abandoning her intention to let Angelo broach the subject. She was fairly confident that Angelo was referring to Sydney, anyway.
He nodded convulsively, and handed her the cat. "From Sydney." She had no idea what he meant, but smiled at him. He was trying to cheer her up.
"Sydney would be sad not to be here with you, too," she said. "He liked you and Tim very much."
"He loved you. He was sad to die and leave you."
Grace looked up in surprise. "Tim? Hello." She paused, drinking in his last words. "Thank you for saying that. It helps." They both remembered their first conversation.
Tim said, "You two didn't want to talk about him. You forgot, Grace." He smiled sadly. "Friends help each other."
They sat quietly for a minute. She did not want to push what he might or might not want to remember and talk about, but she needed to know. "Tim, were you with him when he died?"
His eyes narrowed, and for a moment she thought he was retreating, but then heard him say, "Angelo felt him dying. He was very sad. He wanted to stay with us." Grace felt the words cut her, but nodded. He did not misconstrue her silence for an attempt to hide from him; he knew she simply did not have any words at the moment.
They heard Jarod approaching. He moved toward them tentatively, not wanting to interrupt. Grace wiped the tear from her cheek and said "Hi, Jarod. Tim and I were just sitting here talking about Sydney."
Jarod looked at Tim. "I'm glad you're back. I've missed you."
Tim got up and moved to his friend, easily wrapping his arms around Jarod. "We need to help each other remember Sydney. Grace said that makes up for the sad feelings."
Jarod swallowed hard. "It's hard. It hurts. But I'll try. Anything you want to talk about is okay with me."
They turned back for the cabin. No one was hungry; they sat and talked and cried. Tim left them after awhile and Angelo returned, content to largely watch his two friends finally really begin to heal again, helping each other. It was late before they noticed that Angelo had fallen asleep on the floor by the woodstove. Jarod carefully lifted him like a child and carried him to his bed. Grace helped settle him in, covering him with a thick quilt. They returned to the living room. Grace settled on the couch; Jarod fed the woodstove and turned toward the chair in which he had sat for the last few hours. Changing his mind, he joined Grace on the couch and put an easy arm around her. There were no more words that night. The two sat close, each content to know their friends were nearby, sharing their grief. It did help.
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The following morning, Grace awoke in her bed, covered with a thick quilt of her own. Jarod must have deposited her there during the night. Rolling out of bed, she padded out into the cold living room. There were enough embers in the stove to revive the fire, and she tended to that before returning to her room to change.
Jarod was not in the cabin; Angelo was still asleep. Putting a kettle of water on, she stood by the window looking out. Jarod was just emerging from the woods, blowing into his bare hands. She opened the door for him as he climbed the steps.
"Good morning," she called. He greeted her in return. His eyes were red rimmed.
"You're up early," she noted. "I didn't sleep much," he confessed. She moved into the kitchen to fix them each a cup of hot tea. He stomped the snow off his feet and legs just inside the door and hung his coat on a peg. He stopped for a long moment to finger Sydney's parka next to his. Grace put a hand on his. "Holy cow, you're freezing," she said. "How long were you out there?"
He accepted the oversize mug of tea gratefully, wrapping his red fingers around it. "A little while," he said. He looked at her honestly. "I went to his grave." She nodded. He didn't have to explain.
"Grace – when this is all over – I want to move him. I... I want to make sure that he..."
"Next to Jacob. I know. He'd want that. We'll do it together," she said.
Jarod nodded, thankful that she understood. "Angelo – or Tim – had been there," he told her. "Those silk flowers were stuck in the snow."
Grace's eyes misted over. She recalled the cat in her coat pocket, and told Jarod about it. "What do you think it means?" she asked.
Jarod shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Angelo will tell us."
They sipped their tea, putting off the rest of the day as long as possible. Finally, Jarod arose, declaring that he wanted oatmeal and chocolate milk. Grace had to admit, it sounded good, and offered to prepare it. Jarod slipped into his room to change out of the previous evening's clothes and take a hot shower. He knocked on Angelo's door on the way to the bathroom, rousting the young man. He stumbled into the living room, rubbing his eyes. Grace greeted him with a smile.
"Morning," she said. "I'm making oatmeal. Sound good to you?"
He nodded, and made his own contribution. "Toast." Seating himself at the table, he opened the bag of bread and slid two slices into the toaster. Ducking, he brought his head down to the tabletop. She watched him curiously as he looked at himself in the chrome side of the toaster. He noticed her looking at him and smiled sheepishly.
She understood. Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, she stepped over to his side and squatted down. Looking at their reflection in the toaster, she smiled. "Bed-head," she said. Surprising herself, she laughed, her first genuine laugh in an eternity. Angelo looked delightedly at her open-mouthed smile in the chrome. She planted a kiss on his cheek and returned to the stove. Angelo, embarrassed but pleased, stared at the toaster.
She served up the oatmeal as Jarod joined them. Angelo watched Jarod closely, mimicking him as he poured chocolate milk in his bowl. Grace was struck again at the big brother/little brother relationship they had. A pang of grief ambushed her as the memory of Sydney's long-suffering sigh as he pretended exasperation with the Cracker-Jack war unexpectedly popped up. Was that really only a few weeks ago?
Grace realized that Angelo and Jarod were both watching her, knowing she was remembering Sydney. "I was just thinking about you two throwing Cracker Jacks at each other, and the look on Sydney's face." Jarod grinned at Angelo. Grace continued, "Did you know he stayed up that night, picking up all of those Cracker Jacks? He didn't want to go to bed until he'd found them all." Jarod and Grace laughed, as they would frequently over the next few weeks as they retold stories about Sydney. Angelo and Tim presided over most of these stories, volunteering little, happy to simply see and hear them talking about Sydney. Little by little, the sadness overtook them less and less often. Friends, Tim/Angelo thought, were good things to have. He wished he had made more friends, but there were so few people in the Centre to trust.
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