*
"So right after I was born he took off. Rory said that he held me in his arms and looked down at me, then handed me back to her and said he'd be right back. He never came back. I guess that's to be expected, I mean he was 18 and scared. Who could blame him right? Just because I hated him for the first 17 years of my life doesn't mean that I was justified in that hate. Was I?" This was strange. Spilling your guts to your sister who you had never met before. He had never told anyone - save Dominique - this much about how he felt.
"You're always justified in your feelings. Right or wrong." And it's not like she hadn't spent the past two decades of her life wavering between hatred and adoration for her father. If he wasn't justified, than neither was she.
"Okay. You want me to keep going?" This felt strange, but not in the same way that it had before. It felt more like, weight lifting off of him. He actually wanted to continue.
He obviously didn't know her well enough yet. "Yes." Actually it should have been, 'if you want to' but she didn't have her degree yet.
"I'll leave out the boring details of be age zero to ...I don't know. When I was nine Rory moved us to New York City for work. It was a rough neighborhood, people died. It's a different way of life out there...when I was twelve I..." He hadn't shared this with Dominique. He hadn't shared it with anyone. "I lost my virginity."
And bingo, you had the vulnerability spot. "And what was that experience like?"
"Well it was a forty-five year old guy. You tell me what you think that's like." Fuck that. He was allowed to be bitter. He was just a stupid, naive child. He didn't know what the hell he was doing. He'd grown up since then.
Augusta would think that was painful. Physically and mentally. "It's not my job to imagine what that's like, Atticus. And if you don't want to go further, you don't have to." It was her job just to listen, not to judge or even heal. But to listen to help them heal. That's what happened when she attended a self-help psychology class.
He was getting sick of people calling him Atticus, but he wasn't going to spend all of his free time correcting them, so he'd just have to deal with it. "Sorry, am I being an ass? I do that a lot. It's just...I don't ever talk about these things. I guess I expected a response. I'll be a better patient now."
"Just be yourself," Augusta shifted in her seat, wishing she had her notebook and pen but she decided to respect Atticus and not record all of her thoughts and his problems. "Let's talk about your name."
He literally laughed out loud. "Atticus. It's funny isn't it? About five years ago - after reading 'To Kill A Mockingbird' I realized how anti-me it was. Rory had called me Dodger since I was little, so I guess it just sort of transferred from there. No one over there calls me Atticus anymore. Well, one girl, but she does it to bother me."
"Dodger? Like Jess?" Augusta blinked. Never mind. That wasn't important. "Who's the girl? In the general scheme of things and your life."
"Dominique?" his expression turned from amusement to a bitter smile. "The girl. The obsession. The one I lost love over. At least I thought it was love. She's constantly telling me that it wasn't." Girls were so damn confusing. They all wanted something different, if just one of them could actually be decisive, maybe a guy would stand a chance.
She sounded like Lola. "So what's your relationship like now?"
"With Dominique? Non-existent. To quote her, 'It was just sex Atticus. You really need to accept that'. Beautiful girl, heart the size of an amoeba though." It was true. Of course, it was just his luck that he would fall for the girl that would shatter his heart and step on the pieces with 3-inch Versace heels.
"And how often does she say this?" Sounded like a classic case of defense mechanism. But, she wasn't really one to talk.
"Once. We've only slept together once. I barely knew her before last year, and even then I moved right after I became addicted. She's like a drug. And I hate it. She makes me feel like shit, but at the same time..." At the same time, being with her was the only thing that made sense in his entire life.
"And at the same time…?" Augusta prompted. This was as good as…no; this was better than Dallie and Lola. Atticus was actually telling her stuff.
"At the same time, everything is better. Everything...makes sense. Do you know what it's like to have your entire world fall down, piece by piece? And you try to fix it, but you can't? She's the one thing that makes sense. But then she doesn't, because...she doesn't want me." How was that for pitiful?
"She wants you, At-Dodger," well she was pretty sure of that. "But it sounds like she has as many issues as you do. And the wall keeps falling down and coming back up because you frighten her. Your feelings do. You represent exactly what she doesn't want in her life but needs most." She was pretty good without her notebook. "Is she related to Lo?"
He nodded, "Dominique is her aunt. She's Tristan's sister. Is it that obvious that she's a DuGrey?" He was ignoring that other part of what she had just told him. It couldn't be true, could it? "Why would she deny herself that?"
"Well that seems to be the DuGreys way of dealing with falling in love. They don't want it, so they ignore it until it goes away. And then they get all annoyed when it's still there," Augusta replied. She was betraying a trust. But this was a whole dimensional circumstance. "Look, I'm pulling out what I know from my experience with Lola. But love seems to be the last thing these girls want. It would make them human. That's why they deny it. Which makes them stupid." It made her stupid too, but she wasn't dealing with herself right now.
"So what do I do? Where do I go from here?" God, he just quoted Buffy again. "How is it that this isn't even the biggest problem in my life?"
"Because life's not fair like that," Augusta replied, leaning back in her desk chair. She would have gone on except her door had opened up, and she looked at the intruder and groaned. Just what she needed.
"Who's he?" Well Fin had never been one to be subtle or…even tactful.
"Knock." That's all she said in reply. Well, knocking would have been nice.
There was a tall, dark guy standing at the door, and judging by Augusta's annoyance at his entrance, he was her point of denial. "Being stupid yourself, sister dearest?" And the smirk followed.
Augusta
glared at him. "Not in the same way." She blew out a frustrated breath. "Not at
all."
Fin arched an eyebrow. "Sister?"
Oh, of course he'd have to pick that out of everything. "Not…Dodger?"
"Technically, yes. But I don't think the explanation would make much sense to anyone who didn't want to believe it was possible." He closed his mouth and opened it again. "And don't think I believe you."
"Try me," Fin crossed his arms across his chest. "I come from a heritage that believes in Selkies and leprechauns, you'd be amazed what the Irish believe is possible."
No one challenged Augusta Mariano, even when she knew she was being manipulated. "He's my father's son from another dimension."
Atticus looked at the ridiculous expression that now had placed itself on Fin's face. And nodded to justify what Augusta had just told him.
"And you- you believe this?" Fin asked, it didn't seem to exactly fit the logical person he'd come to know.
Well… "I'm pretending to." She paused. "But I'm not sure if I've passed the point of believing or not yet. The line is so very blurred."
Atticus let a laugh escape him, "Come on Augusta, I couldn't make up that shitty of a life if I tried." He eyed the tall Irishman, wondering exactly what his association was to his sister.
"I'm sorry, did you met Lola?" Augusta replied, "She's proven that you can make up anything." She turned her attention back to Fin. "And you, you should knock."
Fin shouldn't say this, but usually words fell from his mouth whether or not he wanted them to. "You have no idea how much you sound like your mother right there."
Uh-oh. Atticus still wasn't sure of their affiliation, but he guessed that if they were close in the least, the guy would be lucky if he was allowed children in the future. Of course, that could have also depended on whether Augusta wanted him to have children in the future. Atticus inwardly smacked himself in the face, when did he become perceptive? Or pay any attention at all for that matter?
"Then it's a good thing I don't have mother issues," She put the palm of her hand on his hand and pushed him out the door. "Now either wait until I'm done or leave. I'm in the middle of a session." Augusta loved saying that. Then she shut the door and locked it. Which she probably should have done in the first place.
Great. Back to digging up dead issues. Even if the problems were simply buried alive. Probing upwards, always trying to force themselves back up. He lay back down on the couch and raised his eyebrows. "What else do you want me to talk about?"
"Well, we were talking about Dominique," Augusta reminded him as she sat back down in her chair. "But we could move onto something else if you'd like."
"Huh. Like the fact that my father left me before he even knew my name. I was born to be like this; miserable. The person responsible for my creation couldn't even love me."
She hadn't gone through the same exact thing as him, but she could sympathize. Augusta could still remember nights she had laid awake, listening to her parent's voices, straining to keep their voices at a whisper, before her mother would stomp up the stairs, and her father out the door. Again. And he wouldn't say good-bye, and he'd rarely call, and the only thing he'd write was a quick scrawl on the back of the postcard. She had wondered what she had done wrong to make him keep leaving, to stay away for so long. Why he didn't care enough to stay home.
"Jess sucks at love," Augusta told him simply. "What about Rory?"
Rory. The name was sweet and innocent, not that of a girl whoa would get knocked up in the backseat of some town bad-boy's car. Not that he knew the details of his conception, just that Luke had monitored them closely at all times so that none of the above would occur. Although apparently fate was fate and here he was. "Rory is a good mother." the words were blank, he said them, and knew they were true. But nothing about them made him want to put anything behind them, not the slightest trace of emotion.
"You say that just like Lola does," she pointed out. The same matter-of-factness, and you knew they meant it. But it still didn't effect their actions a bit.
"Well I guess Lola and I are just one and the same." he added sarcastically. Why was he doing this? He didn't want to be understood in the first place. "You want more? The only time I ever thought I loved anything it got taken away from me because I'm led around by my dick."
"What guy isn't?" It was comforting to know that her brother knew a little bit about psychology, because that was just too obviously 1980's textbook.
"Still. It isn't an actual excuse." he paused, "I have a thing for one-night stands. Although often they're in the middle of the day." he looked puzzled as he said it.
Augusta tried not to look amused as she asked, "Why do you think that is?"
"Perhaps I have problems with commitment. I'd ask you your opinion but you haven't been very forthcoming." he said it with a touch of annoyance but he wasn't really that annoyed. Just a little angry at the fact that she kept asking questions but giving little insight.
Which meant that she should give her opinion. Right. "Well, maybe you're avoiding the same entanglements of your father. Perhaps you understand that you can't deny yourself the basic desires, your body- and perhaps soul- crave. So instead of sticking with one girl past the point of orgasm, you jump from bed to bed. So that when you leave, you don't have to feel the guilt of leaving behind a broken soul. Like Jess did."
Well, that was definitely insight. At first the words stung and were strange but as they slowly seeped into his brain, into his thoughts, he realized that she might be right. And he hated that, but at least he'd figured something out. "So I use sex to protect myself from love?"
"No, you use sex to protect yourself from feeling responsible."
He shrugged, "Responsibility has never really been my thing."
It had never been their father's thing either, but she refrained from saying it since Atticus might not appreciate her pointing it out. "How self aware of you."
He smirked, raising an eyebrow "Why thank you. I always knew I was deep, now if only i could get Taylor to stop calling me 'you!kid!'"
Augusta snorted, "Oh he'll never get over that."
"He never does get over anything. They all think I'm my father in that town. They blame me for ruining Rory's life, and they take the anger that they have for Jess out on me, for stealing Rory's innocence." He shook his head, to tell the truth he could care less what they thought of him, but it was something to talk about, maybe there was something more within it.
"It's projection. They can't take it out on the person responsible, so they blame the next best thing," Augusta noted out loud. "Stars Hollow can be a very judgmental place."
"Apparently. The girls like me though." he was smirking once again.
Augusta's eyes rolled upward. "I have no doubt that you're related to Lola."
At the mention of his "sister's" name he sat up a little straighter, he wondered where the hell she was. "I wonder how she's coping with this little tear in the seam of reality."
"That's a very interesting pondering," Augusta shifted in her seat, wishing it were possible to be in two realities at once. "But there's a phone over there if you want to try and play amateur psychologist and piss her off." She motioned the phone on her desk.
He gave her a cocky look and stood up, striding over to the phone and then picked it up. The look however dropped from his face and he asked her lamely, "Uh, what's her number again?" So he was fine with words, but numbers were beyond him. So? Nobody was perfect. He laughed to himself, okay, he definitely wasn't perfect, forget simply numbers.
She bit her lip, attempting to hide her amusement. "It's number six on speed dial."
He mumbled a thank you and bent over to press down the number awkwardly. Funny, add two more 6's and you'd pretty much have Lola pinned. It rang twice before she picked up.
"Hello Mariano," Lola answered, as she sat down in the nearest seat. Greeting one by that last name was safe. There was a good chance that it was one of them.
"Lo-la. How are you doing in that big bad world?" he smiled, he could almost get used to living in this one, maybe she'd be okay with switching?
Well, if he was going to use that tone of voice, "Better than your car."
The half-smile playing on his lips immediately vanished, his voice getting deeper, "What did you do?"
Lola couldn't help if her lips twisted into a curl at the slight panic in his voice. Something about torturing her brother was so enjoyable. "It's more what the other car did yours, than what I personally did to it."
"What did you do." The fear was edging out of his voice and quickly turning into annoyance. She was amused. That was great, at least that meant it couldn't have been that bad.
She wondered if this next tidbit would be amusing. It wouldn't hurt to leak, "Maybe you should ask your friend Tyler."
He winced at the sound of her name; he hadn't wanted Lola to know about her. Tyler was his secret, even if people knew about her. She wasn't his rock, she was his safe place. Maybe that's why he lost her, because he'd just used her as that. "So what was it? A fender bender? I guess I shouldn't have assumed you could safely drive a Jeep, seeing how it's beneath you and all."
"As opposed to the things that are beneath you," Lola said, rather than answering his question. "Really, Atty, who knew you had such horrible taste in women? You were showing such potential with Dominique too."
"Lola if there's one place we're not going to go right now, it's there so just skip it and tell me what's going on." Now he was angry, no longer concerned with anything else other than figuring out how to get Lola out of his life.
Contrary to popular belief, Lola wasn't so much of a bitch that she would push past a clearly drawn limit. "Your car's fine, for the most part. But take a few hundred out of my bank account, so you can make the minor repairs." She even made sure to emphasize the word 'minor'. Wasn't that nice of her?
"Yeah. Okay," he said idly, Lola said a few hundred the same way he talked about slices of bread. Oh the difference a day could make. "Where are you anyway? With Dom?"
"Sort of," she glanced over at the unfamiliar staircase. "She thought of someone that might be able to help us. Tobey, or something to that effect. So we're at his house. And she's up stairs retrieving him."
"Tobey?" he asked the question out loud before he could even register it himself. She knew that he and Dominique were casual friends but to go to him now? But wait, none of Dominique's friends were intelligent enough to understand this concept, and as Atticus remembered that Tobey was at the top of their class, the pieces began to fit together. "So you haven't met him yet? He's a pretty good guy. My closest friend, so don't be a bitch." God, he really needed to shut up. He hated that he was talking when there was no actual reason he had to be.
"I can be nice when I want to be," this was said in a pout, but then she lowered her voice to a more seductive quality. "Very nice, indeed."
He rolled his eyes, yes, all girls like Lola could be "nice" whenever they wanted, he knew the drill. "Do whatever, just don't fuck up my life please."
"Same to you," Lola replied, her eyes drifting over to the staircase again. "Where are you calling from?"
"I'm in Augusta's office, actually. We were just discussing you so I thought I'd give you a call." he smiled, not knowing whether this would increase or deflate her ego. From what he knew of Lola, it would probably be the former.
A giggle escaped her lips, "You got suckered into a session?" Then, "About me? Why talk? Aggie's got tons of files on me."
"It was nothing important." he shrugged it off, trying to leave her with no real conclusions, "And I did not get 'suckered in', I volunteered, it was a tradeoff."
"For?"
"Her help, getting back." it was that simple. He sighed, no he also wanted some unbiased advice, not that he'd ever admit it to anyone.
"And you decided to call me?" If she put her mind to it, Lola was sure she'd be a more tenacious interrogator than Augusta. But since she didn't care about other people's problems, she'd probably suck at that portion of being a psychiatrist.
"I wanted to see if you'd gotten anywhere, but the answer to that is apparently 'no'." he sighed, "Are Dom and Tobey downstairs yet?" Knowing Dominique she was probably already on her back, and best friend or not, no one had that kind of resistance.
Lola paused and listened. There were footsteps. "They're coming." She couldn't help but smirk at that. Let him interpret that, as he will.
"Thank you for the imagery." He smiled; it was so nice to know that innuendo was genetic.
"Always happy to oblige," Lola answered, standing up. "However, I should go. Don't take over 900."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Nine hundred dollars. 'Huh', he sighed, And some things definitely weren't genetic.
"You would if you hadn't been raised by Rory," she returned. "Bye, Atty."
"Bye Lo." he hung up the phone. Stopping to stare back at it, and suddenly wondering if Lola's bank account what exactly Lola would do while she was ever-so-patiently waiting to leave his reality. Or moreover, who.
To Be Continued…