Three Bricks Shy-Alias, PG-13 (A touch of the occult and some humor)
Peregrine
Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone and is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.
*****
Epilogue I
"It's been quite a ride," Eric said as we pulled up in front of Trish's townhouse. Tilda was nowhere to be seen. "Hey, maybe she forgot about us."
"Or maybe the truck finally bit the dust," I cracked as we got out. A moment later, I heard the screen door slap shut as Trish came out in shorts and a T-shirt, her hair shoved under a painter's cap. She looked more like my kid sister than my mother. God, my mother would never understand. Marie and Bill had raised me, and as far as I was concerned, they were my parents. So where did that leave Trish? What did I call her? I smiled at her and her answering smile was tinged with that same aura of sadness I had noticed yesterday.
"Glad you could make it. Come on back and have a tall one before you leave." It sounded more like an order than a suggestion, and for a second, she sounded exactly like Marie. I almost laughed at the similarity, because Trish would take my head off if I even suggested that she had something in common with her oldest sister.
She set us up with Sam Adams and I noticed the blank wall over her fireplace. "What happened to that picture of the farmhouse?"
Trish walked over to a carefully wrapped parcel and handed it to me. "What's this about?" I asked with a frown.
"I am giving it to you."
"Why?" I honestly wanted to know. Trying to buy my affections at this late date was kind of pointless and besides, it was beneath her.
"Because I saw the way you looked at it….it touched something in you which no longer touches me. It belongs with you."
The selfish part of me wanted it desperately, wanted to see it hanging on my wall where I could revel in its fabulous use of color and perspective. An even deeper desire wanted something that belonged to my real mother. "I'd be honored. Thank you."
Trish looked immensely relieved and flashed her dimples at us. "Good."
"So what happened to your truck?" Eric asked idly.
"My neighbor had it towed because it was blocking the sidewalk. So I say, good riddance. Thirty years is long enough, don't you think?"
"Does this mean you're going to drive the Porsche?" Eric desperately wanted a ride.
"No, one of you is going to drive it out of here."
Weiss couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Is she saying what I think she's saying?"
Trish ignored Eric and pinned me to my seat with her emerald eyes. She held out her hand and said, "Give me your coin, Michel."
The coin nestled inside my palm where I gripped it like a good luck charm. "What are you talking about?"
Trish rolled her eyes and rattled off something in colloquial French about men who played dumb. "The coin if you please."
I let my fingers uncurl and she snatched it out of my hand with a mischievous grin.
"Tonight is your lucky night. One of you will walk out of here with the keys and title to my Porsche."
"You really are insane." Certifiably so. "You can't just give away a car."
She looked at me with a challenge in her eyes. "Call it. Heads or tails."
"Trish, you can't do this. This car is special to you…." I tried protesting but I saw that she had made up her mind.
"Shall I let Eric go first?" Her mouth quirked into a half smile and I turned away, not needing the reminder that we were so much alike.
Weiss was practically jumping up and down with excitement, because he knew the coin would come out tails, just like it always did. "Tails!" he shouted.
"Heads," I said flatly, wondering what the point of this exercise was. Why didn't she just give the car to Eric and be done with it?
Trish's eyes filled with pity and I liked that even less than the smile. "Why don't you have a little faith, Michel?"
"In what, a coin toss?" I countered shortly. "We both know how this will come out."
"Do we?" She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe your luck is changing."
And with that, she tossed the coin high in the air and we watched its silver catch the lamplight as it rotated end over end and landed in her outstretched fingers. When she opened her hand, I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath until I saw the result. Heads. It was impossible. It must be a trick of the light. But no, she handed the coin back to me and it was face up. "You've won."
I could see Eric's disappointment, but I also saw that he was happy for me. "Congratulations," he said without any hard feelings.
I stared down at the coin and shook my head. "This has never happened before. Never."
"You have seen the impossible and still you do not accept it?" Trish shook her head at my foolishness.
"What am I supposed to do with a car like this?" Self-respecting agents did not drive Porsches. They drove boring cars like the one that told everyone what I was. G-man. Shiny shoes. Creased trousers. Tie knotted correctly. No missing buttons. I never dreamed about what I couldn't have, so I didn't bother poring over issues of Car and Driver and saving for that rainy day.
Trish surprised me by touching my cheek with her hand for a second. "Go after her," she said softly, her words meant only for me.
I opened my mouth to protest and she stopped me by handing me an envelope. "Have the ride of your life and oh…." She reached over to the counter and added the handicapped plate to the pile. "Don't forget this."
I tried giving it back and she shook her head. "Her plane leaves soon, so you must be very quick."
There was a tiny part of me that had always wanted to let loose and do something extreme. I ignored my conscience and grabbed the painting off the table and dashed for the car. Weiss sprinted out behind me and unloaded my luggage from the rental car. "You're as crazy as she is. You know that, don't you?"
"And I'll probably regret this," I said as I got behind the wheel. "But if I don't try, then I'll never know if it might have worked out."
"Good luck."
I smiled and lifted my fingers in a salute as I backed the car down the driveway and tore off with a squeal of tires.
*****
Conclusion is coming tomorrow.
Peregrine
Alias is owned by ABC, Touchstone and is the creation of JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.
*****
Epilogue I
"It's been quite a ride," Eric said as we pulled up in front of Trish's townhouse. Tilda was nowhere to be seen. "Hey, maybe she forgot about us."
"Or maybe the truck finally bit the dust," I cracked as we got out. A moment later, I heard the screen door slap shut as Trish came out in shorts and a T-shirt, her hair shoved under a painter's cap. She looked more like my kid sister than my mother. God, my mother would never understand. Marie and Bill had raised me, and as far as I was concerned, they were my parents. So where did that leave Trish? What did I call her? I smiled at her and her answering smile was tinged with that same aura of sadness I had noticed yesterday.
"Glad you could make it. Come on back and have a tall one before you leave." It sounded more like an order than a suggestion, and for a second, she sounded exactly like Marie. I almost laughed at the similarity, because Trish would take my head off if I even suggested that she had something in common with her oldest sister.
She set us up with Sam Adams and I noticed the blank wall over her fireplace. "What happened to that picture of the farmhouse?"
Trish walked over to a carefully wrapped parcel and handed it to me. "What's this about?" I asked with a frown.
"I am giving it to you."
"Why?" I honestly wanted to know. Trying to buy my affections at this late date was kind of pointless and besides, it was beneath her.
"Because I saw the way you looked at it….it touched something in you which no longer touches me. It belongs with you."
The selfish part of me wanted it desperately, wanted to see it hanging on my wall where I could revel in its fabulous use of color and perspective. An even deeper desire wanted something that belonged to my real mother. "I'd be honored. Thank you."
Trish looked immensely relieved and flashed her dimples at us. "Good."
"So what happened to your truck?" Eric asked idly.
"My neighbor had it towed because it was blocking the sidewalk. So I say, good riddance. Thirty years is long enough, don't you think?"
"Does this mean you're going to drive the Porsche?" Eric desperately wanted a ride.
"No, one of you is going to drive it out of here."
Weiss couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Is she saying what I think she's saying?"
Trish ignored Eric and pinned me to my seat with her emerald eyes. She held out her hand and said, "Give me your coin, Michel."
The coin nestled inside my palm where I gripped it like a good luck charm. "What are you talking about?"
Trish rolled her eyes and rattled off something in colloquial French about men who played dumb. "The coin if you please."
I let my fingers uncurl and she snatched it out of my hand with a mischievous grin.
"Tonight is your lucky night. One of you will walk out of here with the keys and title to my Porsche."
"You really are insane." Certifiably so. "You can't just give away a car."
She looked at me with a challenge in her eyes. "Call it. Heads or tails."
"Trish, you can't do this. This car is special to you…." I tried protesting but I saw that she had made up her mind.
"Shall I let Eric go first?" Her mouth quirked into a half smile and I turned away, not needing the reminder that we were so much alike.
Weiss was practically jumping up and down with excitement, because he knew the coin would come out tails, just like it always did. "Tails!" he shouted.
"Heads," I said flatly, wondering what the point of this exercise was. Why didn't she just give the car to Eric and be done with it?
Trish's eyes filled with pity and I liked that even less than the smile. "Why don't you have a little faith, Michel?"
"In what, a coin toss?" I countered shortly. "We both know how this will come out."
"Do we?" She raised an eyebrow. "Maybe your luck is changing."
And with that, she tossed the coin high in the air and we watched its silver catch the lamplight as it rotated end over end and landed in her outstretched fingers. When she opened her hand, I hadn't realized I'd been holding my breath until I saw the result. Heads. It was impossible. It must be a trick of the light. But no, she handed the coin back to me and it was face up. "You've won."
I could see Eric's disappointment, but I also saw that he was happy for me. "Congratulations," he said without any hard feelings.
I stared down at the coin and shook my head. "This has never happened before. Never."
"You have seen the impossible and still you do not accept it?" Trish shook her head at my foolishness.
"What am I supposed to do with a car like this?" Self-respecting agents did not drive Porsches. They drove boring cars like the one that told everyone what I was. G-man. Shiny shoes. Creased trousers. Tie knotted correctly. No missing buttons. I never dreamed about what I couldn't have, so I didn't bother poring over issues of Car and Driver and saving for that rainy day.
Trish surprised me by touching my cheek with her hand for a second. "Go after her," she said softly, her words meant only for me.
I opened my mouth to protest and she stopped me by handing me an envelope. "Have the ride of your life and oh…." She reached over to the counter and added the handicapped plate to the pile. "Don't forget this."
I tried giving it back and she shook her head. "Her plane leaves soon, so you must be very quick."
There was a tiny part of me that had always wanted to let loose and do something extreme. I ignored my conscience and grabbed the painting off the table and dashed for the car. Weiss sprinted out behind me and unloaded my luggage from the rental car. "You're as crazy as she is. You know that, don't you?"
"And I'll probably regret this," I said as I got behind the wheel. "But if I don't try, then I'll never know if it might have worked out."
"Good luck."
I smiled and lifted my fingers in a salute as I backed the car down the driveway and tore off with a squeal of tires.
*****
Conclusion is coming tomorrow.