Title: Promises to Keep (1/1)
Summary: Charlie tries to deal with what he discovered about Tinga.
Spoilers: Hit a Sista Back
Characters: Charlie, Tinga, Case, Max.
Rating: PG13 (maybe even a PG?)
Disclaimer: Cameron and Eglee.
Date: May 14, 15, 2001.
She had introduced herself as Penny. Their hands had clasped over the table, and Charlie could remember the feel of her hand in his. Her skin had been soft, and months later he was to see for himself the bottle of unscented hand lotion in her bathroom. Her nails had been short and unvarnished, neat ovals--and it had taken him even longer to discover that soldiers didn't grow long nails. Her skin had been warm, her fingers long and slim, and he had smiled at her. He remembered thinking that she had a nice grip, powerful and comfortable as she shook his hand--and he learned that her hands were strong enough to grind the bones within his own to dust.
He had fallen in love with Penny, and there had never really been any choice in the matter. Penny had been smart and funny, sexy and sweet and after their first date he had returned to his own apartment with a throat hoarse from talking and a smile that hadn't faded for hours. He had stood before the priest, friends and family at their backs, and had taken Penny as his wife. He had made love to Penny, and she had curled up at his side, her head above his heart. Charlie had sat at Penny's bedside as she huffed and pushed, and it was only four years later that he understood why she hadn't held his hand as she gave birth to their son.
Charlie had learned that the woman he loved wasn't real--not in the way in which he had always understood real. His Penny had been orphaned as a child. She had worked in a bakery and come home smelling of baked goods. She had curled up in the arm-chair near the window in her favourite pair of grey sweat-pants and an old t-shirt and had read the newest novel from her favourite author. There was a woman inside the woman he had married. Her name is _Tinga_, Charlie had been told in no uncertain terms, and Penny had cracked and fallen away to reveal someone with currents he had never imagined. Tinga had never had parents. Tinga had spent her life running. Tinga had been able to punch her way through a wall and had held a weapon in her hand as if it were an old friend.
There had been traces of Penny in Tinga, and Charlie had loved Penny enough that he was sure that he could accept Tinga, too. Charlie wanted to know the complete woman his wife was. He had learned fractions her secrets in fractured explanations, hurried discussions, in the sight of her bravery and sacrifice. He wanted to sit beside her on their couch, Penny--Tinga--curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder, their hands clasped between their bodies. Charlie wanted to hear her past, wanted to know the truth of the nightmares that had chased her in silence from their bed; he needed to feel her body against his own, too soothe away her pain. He hadn't been given the chance to love Tinga as he had Penny.
"Daddy?" Case said, blinking at his father. His small hand tugged at the top of his blankets, pulling them down so that he had a better view of Charlie. Case's small mouth worked, his face briefly twisting in unhappiness. "Tell me a story? One of mommy's."
Charlie closed his eyes, swallowing past the tightness in his throat. "Case. . . could you tell _me_ one of mommy's stories?" he asked.
Case nodded solemnly. "Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a princess who lived in a castle with her brothers and sisters. The princess had _a lot_ of brothers and sisters," Case said, staring intently at his hands as he counted off each sibling on his fingers. "There was prince Zack, their big brother who tried to take care of them all. Princess Eva, who helped Zack. Princess Brin, and Jondy an' Max an' Syl. Prince Zane and Krit and Ben and Jack. . ." Case trailed off, screwing up his face as he struggled to recall the rest of Tinga's family.
"That is an awfully big family," Charlie commented, distracting his son from his list of names. She had only had two friends at their wedding--no surviving family, she had said, and had looked away as she spoke. Charlie had two siblings, an older brother and a younger sister. Penny had listened in silence whenever he spoke of what it had been like growing up with them, even when he knew she had heard the same story a dozen times in the past. "They loved each other, didn't they?"
Case nodded. "Lots. That's why the princess ran away--the evil king hurt Jack. They took him away an' the princess was afraid that the king would hurt the rest of her family, too." Case rubbed at his eyes with his fist and yawned. "Ben always said that the king gave their family to the Nomolies in the basement. The princess was scared of them, but Ben always made her feel better when he talked about the Good Place."
"The Good Place?"
"Uh huh. Where nobody gets hit, or screamed at, and you can sleep in as long as you want."
Charlie had to look away, struggling with his emotions at Case's recital of his mother's stories. She had gone back to that--she had gone back into a place where freedom and a lack of violence was considered a fantasy. He could remember coming home from work late, and Case had been fussy, wailing in protest at some discomfort they had been unable to discover. Nerves worn raw, Charlie had screamed and he could remember that Penny had fallen back a step, hugging Case to her chest and turning the child away from him. She had looked at him over her shoulder, a warning in her eyes and he had never heard her scream with anger or frustration in Case's presence.
"Case. . ." Charlie trailed off, seeing that his son's lashes lay dark and still against his cheeks. The boy's small chest rose and fell evenly. His hand lay curled against his cheek against the pillow, mouth opened as he breathed. Charlie leaned over, carefully placing a light kiss at Case's forehead.
Max was curled up on the couch by the window when Charlie emerged from the room which had temporarily been set aside for Case. She had changed out of the black tights and quilted vest she had been wearing, and years had fallen away from her. She looked young, and a vision of her as he had first known her lay momentarily superimposed over the image she currently presented--hard eyed determination and constrained violence, sharp orders and quick action. Max's expression had mirrored Tinga's. Charlie could clearly remember the sound of gunfire from the men surrounding them, from the gun Tinga held so familiarly. Charlie had never liked guns, had lost a friend in his youth to a loaded gun closed away in the other boy's parents' night-stand.
"He's asleep?" Max asked, looking away from the window towards Charlie.
"Yes," Charlie answered, standing uncertainly in the doorway connecting living-room and hallway. The situation having calmed, he found himself uneasy in the presence of Tinga's family. He moved to one of the chairs across from Max.
Max nodded. "I remember. . ." she paused, looking at Charlie from beneath lowered lashes.
She was no more confident in how to act with him, Charlie realized. "You can tell me," he told her, voice low and drawn out. "I want--I need to know about her, who she was, what she went through." His chest was tight, the words difficult.
"I remember," Max repeated, "some of the others slept like Case--easily and often when they were going through a growth spurt." Max looked down, fingers plucking at the material of her pants. "Tinga was a sleeper. She hated waking up early, but she was one of the oldest, and they had to serve as good examples to the rest of us." Max's lips twitched, "Tinga perfected the art of sleeping on her feet."
Penny had always remained in bed for an hour after he rose in the morning. She would roll over when he got up, sprawling out over the width of their bed. Her hair was a dark wave over the pillows and sheets, stray strands caught against her parted lips. Charlie would nudge her bare shoulder before he left to prepare breakfast, a warning that she would have to get up before too long. Penny would grunt in response, dragging the covers further over her head. The alarm would shrill, and even from the kitchen Charlie had been able to hear Penny's muffled protests. She would join him, still dressed in her nightclothes and they would sip coffee at the kitchen table together before a glance at the clock sent Charlie to his feet, heading for work.
"Like Penny," Charlie murmured, more to himself than to Max.
She heard him, her head rising. Max caught Charlie's eyes, her own serious. "Yes, just like Penny. Tinga and Penny aren't two separate people." Max paused, struggling to put her own experiences into words. "It's more like none of us became real until we escaped Manticore--what happened to us there, that wasn't us, that wasn't our choice. Out here, that's where we discovered ourselves. I don't know what kinds of foods Tinga likes. I don't know her favourite colour, what authors she likes, what television shows she watches. I don't know who her friends are or the name of the first boy she ever kissed. I never knew that she wanted to get married, that she wanted a child. I never heard Tinga laugh." Max drew in a breath, regaining control of her emotions. Her voice was low but intense when she concluded, "we are more than our pasts, we are more than our training, more than Manticore."
Charlie nodded slowly. "I understand that Penny was real. . . to a degree." He wearily rubbed at his eyes, leaning back into the full cushioned back behind him. "There are just things about her that I never knew about--and they may have been imposed on her, but those situations had a definite impact on her. I feel as if I'm missing out on some of the shadings of her personality, as if I don't know the full depths of the woman she is."
"You'll get the chance to know everything," Max said with certainty. "We're going to get Tinga back, Charlie. I promised her, I promised Case--and this is one promise I'm going to keep. I'm not going to loose another sister. And I won't let Case loose his mother." Max had risen from her couch in order to crouch next to Charlie. She held onto his hand, looking up into Charlie's tight face. "It's going to be fine. I promise."
He could remember the men who has swarmed his home, the illness that had swept through Case's body, the sight of the man who had haunted Penny's nightmares for years. He looked at Max and found the strength to smile. "Thank you."
Max smiled back at him. "This is one story that's going to end with a 'happily ever after.' Just wait, you'll see."
~end~
