A Wedding Song 14--- Mad Season: Part Four
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SIX DAYS LATER
"You sure you can handle her today, Claire? If Eberts didn't have that family thing up in Carmel...."
"I'm fine, Darien."
"Your ribs are healin' alright? Bobbi can be a handful now she's figurin' out how to pull herself up." Hobbes asked her as he handed Roberta Claire to her Godmother.
"I know. We'll both be fine. Go ahead to the briefing." By the way.... thank you for the other night. Having you both there to lean on made it all so much easier. I don't know how you knew.... but I wouldn't have felt safe alone at my place."
"That's what friends are for, right? To know things." Darien quipped, dropping an air kiss near Claire's still faintly bruised left cheek. Bobby soundly kissed his daughter and the men strolled out.
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NOON: CHERYL'S OFFICE
"I try. I just... it's still hard. I keep seein' the other one... nothing seems to make that image go away."
"Do you think maybe making yourself hold Roberta is the key?"
"No. No way. I... I can't even be near her. I know she'll feel how scared I am and I don't want her thinkin' I'm afraid of her. That wouldn't be fair."
"Fair to who? Roberta Claire isn't the only one being affected by your fear, Darien. According to Bobby this is causing problems in your relationship with him as well."
"I guess. He's gettin' frustrated. He thinks I'm not really tryin' to fix it."
"I'd have to say I agree. In part at least."
"What? C'mon. I'm here aren't I? If I wasn't gonna try, would I keep comin' to this office an' sittin' in the same stupid chair just to torture myself?"
"You would if you thought it was what Bobby and your boss expected you to do."
"I never do what everybody expects me to do. It's part of my charm." Darien smirked.
"There's too much of that for your own good sometimes." Cheryl joked back.
"Maybe. It's never let me down."
"Until now."
Darien sobered rapidly.
"Okay.... so maybe I'm not exactly psyched about facin' this. Who would be? I mean... I got the blood of four innocent kids on my hands..."
"Excuse me? I thought we got past this last week."
Abruptly fascinated by the pattern in the oriental rug, Darien mumbled his answer.
"Guess not."
"Then we'll go over it and over it until you get it straight in your head. Let's start at the beginning."
"Let's not."
"Darien."
"Okay, okay."
"Did you brainwash any of those children?"
"No."
"Did you drive them to the locations where you found them?"
"No."
"Did you give any of them a gun?"
"No."
"Did anybody give you a key word or phrase that would instantly counteract their programming?"
"No."
"So when that boy pointed his weapon directly at you, did you have any option other than defending yourself?"
"Yes."
This was not the answer Cheryl was expecting and definitely not the one he'd given her the last time they'd gone through this litany together. His response threw her, but she recovered quickly.
"What option?"
"I should have let him do it. His brain was scrambled.... he didn't know what he was doin'...."
"From what you've told me, the two of you were on pretty equal footing as far as that goes."
"So that gave me the right to put a bullet in a nine year old boy?!"
"It gave you the right to preserve your life."
"No.... no it didn't...."
"So if you could go back and make the decision over again, you'd choose to leave your fiancée and your daughter alone? You'd choose to cause them unbearable pain just to ease your guilty conscience? Is that what you're telling me, Darien?"
"You know it isn't...."
"I do know that."
"Then why ask a question like that? If you know how much I love the both of them why would you say..."
"I'm just following you. I can only form questions based on what you tell me. What I hear you saying is that, given a second chance, you'd put the shooter's life ahead of your own."
"No... no, no. I said I can't make peace with killing an innocent kid. That's what I said..."
"And what about the other seven?" Cheryl asked, returning the favor by unnerving Darien.
"Huh?"
"I'm talking about the seven children that were still alive when you confronted the boy with the gun. If you had let him kill you, what would have happened to them?"
"I... I don't.... there's no way of knowing..."
"Of course there is. This is an easy one, Darien. Just answer the question."
"They.... they would've died." Darien responded quietly.
"That's right. He would have shot you down and then gone on to kill every one of those other children before he killed himself."
"But... you don't understand.... at least.... I wouldn't have been responsible..."
"Responsibility has more than one aspect to it, Darien. You're focusing on the wrong side of the equation. You need to stop obsessing on what you weren't able to do and look at what you accomplished. Four children died. Okay. That's tragic and it's unimaginable, but you're not seeing the rest of the picture. Do the math, Darien."
Suddenly, Cheryl saw a new light slowly developing in Darien's desolate eyes as he processed her words. Despite how badly she wanted him to get the point she was driving home, she stayed silent and didn't help him further. She knew he had to come to his own conclusions or the truth would soon be fogged in by his doubts and fears and he would once again find excuses not to accept the absolution he needed so desperately.
"Math.... you mean.....damn. We.... we saved forty-five kids."
"Yes you did. Because of you and Bobby, forty-five children are living and breathing and are being given a second chance. You took a life in defense of your own. Ultimately you are responsible for that, but you're also responsible for the lives you didn't take. Which number are you going to let rule your life, Darien; the forty-five you rescued and the one little girl who's waiting at home for you, or the four who died?"
"It's not that easy..."
"It's not supposed to be. I never promised you easy. Let's switch topics for a while okay?"
"Great. The only other thing we ever talk about is my family."
"You're learning." Cheryl praised him, smiling. "If your mom could see you the way you are today, how do you think she'd react?"
"I don't know. She'd love that I'm paintin' again. She used to love to watch me draw when I was little. She always told me how good I was.... how much natural talent I had. I remember... I lived to hear that from her. I like to think she'd be proud that I got past all the rebellion stuff an' I'm doin' something positive with my life now."
"Rebellion." Cheryl said meaningfully, tipping her chin down to look at him over the top of her reading glasses. This was Darien's cue to rethink and rephrase and he took it with grace and humor.
"Okay, okay. I wasn't exactly James Dean, but I wasn't John Gotti either. The point is, I got through it thanks to Kevin and Bobby. Now... I'm a good guy."
"What about Kevin?"
"You mean would he be proud? Yeah, I think so. One of my friends at the Agency showed me the report he sent in when he was tryin' to convince 'em to take me on. He used a lot more words than Hobbes ever did... longer ones too, but basically he told the bigwigs the same thing. I was a trained thief and a stubborn, independent, snot-nosed punk. Then... then he said that all that was on the surface. Underneath he knew I had a good heart, if somebody'd bother to drag it out of storage and give it a tune-up."
"Your mom gave you life. Kevin saved it."
"Pretty much."
"And all the good you're doing now, do you see it as a tribute to them and their belief in you?"
"I never thought about it that way.... but I guess so."
"Now I understand why you're having such a hard time letting go of those kids. This is a ingrained habit."
"What is?"
"Living your life for people who aren't here anymore."
Darien stared at Cheryl in mild horror for several seconds. His initial reaction turned to confusion, then to sadness as her point sank in. "You're such a survivor, Darien. You've come through losses that would have crushed other people. I can help you make it through this one too, if you'll only let me. I'm not saying that those four children should be wiped from your memory. The idea is to forgive yourself for what you *actually* did wrong, if anything, treasure what you've learned and let the rest go. Think about it and we'll talk more next week, okay?"
"Yeah. You know, you got the weirdest way of makin' a point. It's like playin' Twister to follow you 'till you finally get somewhere."
"Whatever works. As long as it gets the message through."
"Not yet... but soon, I think. I'm outta here. See you Monday."
"Have a good week."
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Half an hour later, after a quick fast food meal, Darien was on the way back to the Agency to check in with Bobby and the Official. Wrung out from his session with Cheryl, he turned the radio up full blast, trying to drown out the relentlessly cycling thoughts in his brain. After a few minutes, he realized it was giving him nothing but a headache, so he turned it off just in time to hear his cell phone ring from deep in his jacket pocket. Pulling the car over, he flailed in the back seat for a minute or two, finally grasping his coat and pulling it into the front with him. Another few seconds and he had the phone to his ear.
"Darien's House of Migraines and All-Night Chinese Buffet. Darien Fawkes speaking. Can I take your order?"
The response was slow in coming, but when it did, the slurred speech pattern told him his caller was obviously drunk. It took him a few sentences and pieces of sentences to identify who was on the other end of the line.
"Fawkes.... That name just doesn't fit you. I never thought it did. You're nothing like a fox. You're not cunning... or smart.... who the hell decided you get to keep that name?"
"You're bombed, Monroe. Go find somewhere to sleep it off. Like face down in the Pacific." Darien growled, drawing the phone away from his face in preparation for hitting the disconnect button. Luckily, he caught Alex's next words before that happened.
"Don't you dare hang up on me! You do and you'll never see them again, you bastard!"
"Them? Who's them, Alex?" he asked, deliberately tempering all anger out of his voice.
"Them! Your precious Claire and that... abomination you and Hobbes created! Who else would I be talking about?!"
"Are they okay?"
"For the moment. It depends on how fast you get back here, now doesn't it?"
Grimly, Darien pulled back into traffic and raced off toward the Agency.
"I'm on my way, Alex. Tell me what you want, okay? Anything you want, I'll pick it up on the way an' bring it you."
"Pick it up on the way... damn, you think you're so funny. My son is not a gallon of milk! What I want.... what I need more than anything in the whole world you can't give me. Noone can...."
"Okay. I get it now. This is about me havin' a child when you don't. This is about James..."
"Don't you dare even speak his name! Don't you dare!"
"Look, I'm sorry for how things worked out, Monroe, but none of that was my fault. I didn't make you give up your little boy...."
"No...no, of course not. You just shot him point blank in the chest rather than bring him home to me... what, couldn't you stand the thought of someone else on this team having a child? You didn't want to give up all the attention... is that it?!"
"Alex... back up. I don't understand..."
"You don't have to. You killed my baby, you son of a bitch... if you haul ass back to the Agency, maybe you'll be in time to watch me kill yours."
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TBC.....
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SIX DAYS LATER
"You sure you can handle her today, Claire? If Eberts didn't have that family thing up in Carmel...."
"I'm fine, Darien."
"Your ribs are healin' alright? Bobbi can be a handful now she's figurin' out how to pull herself up." Hobbes asked her as he handed Roberta Claire to her Godmother.
"I know. We'll both be fine. Go ahead to the briefing." By the way.... thank you for the other night. Having you both there to lean on made it all so much easier. I don't know how you knew.... but I wouldn't have felt safe alone at my place."
"That's what friends are for, right? To know things." Darien quipped, dropping an air kiss near Claire's still faintly bruised left cheek. Bobby soundly kissed his daughter and the men strolled out.
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NOON: CHERYL'S OFFICE
"I try. I just... it's still hard. I keep seein' the other one... nothing seems to make that image go away."
"Do you think maybe making yourself hold Roberta is the key?"
"No. No way. I... I can't even be near her. I know she'll feel how scared I am and I don't want her thinkin' I'm afraid of her. That wouldn't be fair."
"Fair to who? Roberta Claire isn't the only one being affected by your fear, Darien. According to Bobby this is causing problems in your relationship with him as well."
"I guess. He's gettin' frustrated. He thinks I'm not really tryin' to fix it."
"I'd have to say I agree. In part at least."
"What? C'mon. I'm here aren't I? If I wasn't gonna try, would I keep comin' to this office an' sittin' in the same stupid chair just to torture myself?"
"You would if you thought it was what Bobby and your boss expected you to do."
"I never do what everybody expects me to do. It's part of my charm." Darien smirked.
"There's too much of that for your own good sometimes." Cheryl joked back.
"Maybe. It's never let me down."
"Until now."
Darien sobered rapidly.
"Okay.... so maybe I'm not exactly psyched about facin' this. Who would be? I mean... I got the blood of four innocent kids on my hands..."
"Excuse me? I thought we got past this last week."
Abruptly fascinated by the pattern in the oriental rug, Darien mumbled his answer.
"Guess not."
"Then we'll go over it and over it until you get it straight in your head. Let's start at the beginning."
"Let's not."
"Darien."
"Okay, okay."
"Did you brainwash any of those children?"
"No."
"Did you drive them to the locations where you found them?"
"No."
"Did you give any of them a gun?"
"No."
"Did anybody give you a key word or phrase that would instantly counteract their programming?"
"No."
"So when that boy pointed his weapon directly at you, did you have any option other than defending yourself?"
"Yes."
This was not the answer Cheryl was expecting and definitely not the one he'd given her the last time they'd gone through this litany together. His response threw her, but she recovered quickly.
"What option?"
"I should have let him do it. His brain was scrambled.... he didn't know what he was doin'...."
"From what you've told me, the two of you were on pretty equal footing as far as that goes."
"So that gave me the right to put a bullet in a nine year old boy?!"
"It gave you the right to preserve your life."
"No.... no it didn't...."
"So if you could go back and make the decision over again, you'd choose to leave your fiancée and your daughter alone? You'd choose to cause them unbearable pain just to ease your guilty conscience? Is that what you're telling me, Darien?"
"You know it isn't...."
"I do know that."
"Then why ask a question like that? If you know how much I love the both of them why would you say..."
"I'm just following you. I can only form questions based on what you tell me. What I hear you saying is that, given a second chance, you'd put the shooter's life ahead of your own."
"No... no, no. I said I can't make peace with killing an innocent kid. That's what I said..."
"And what about the other seven?" Cheryl asked, returning the favor by unnerving Darien.
"Huh?"
"I'm talking about the seven children that were still alive when you confronted the boy with the gun. If you had let him kill you, what would have happened to them?"
"I... I don't.... there's no way of knowing..."
"Of course there is. This is an easy one, Darien. Just answer the question."
"They.... they would've died." Darien responded quietly.
"That's right. He would have shot you down and then gone on to kill every one of those other children before he killed himself."
"But... you don't understand.... at least.... I wouldn't have been responsible..."
"Responsibility has more than one aspect to it, Darien. You're focusing on the wrong side of the equation. You need to stop obsessing on what you weren't able to do and look at what you accomplished. Four children died. Okay. That's tragic and it's unimaginable, but you're not seeing the rest of the picture. Do the math, Darien."
Suddenly, Cheryl saw a new light slowly developing in Darien's desolate eyes as he processed her words. Despite how badly she wanted him to get the point she was driving home, she stayed silent and didn't help him further. She knew he had to come to his own conclusions or the truth would soon be fogged in by his doubts and fears and he would once again find excuses not to accept the absolution he needed so desperately.
"Math.... you mean.....damn. We.... we saved forty-five kids."
"Yes you did. Because of you and Bobby, forty-five children are living and breathing and are being given a second chance. You took a life in defense of your own. Ultimately you are responsible for that, but you're also responsible for the lives you didn't take. Which number are you going to let rule your life, Darien; the forty-five you rescued and the one little girl who's waiting at home for you, or the four who died?"
"It's not that easy..."
"It's not supposed to be. I never promised you easy. Let's switch topics for a while okay?"
"Great. The only other thing we ever talk about is my family."
"You're learning." Cheryl praised him, smiling. "If your mom could see you the way you are today, how do you think she'd react?"
"I don't know. She'd love that I'm paintin' again. She used to love to watch me draw when I was little. She always told me how good I was.... how much natural talent I had. I remember... I lived to hear that from her. I like to think she'd be proud that I got past all the rebellion stuff an' I'm doin' something positive with my life now."
"Rebellion." Cheryl said meaningfully, tipping her chin down to look at him over the top of her reading glasses. This was Darien's cue to rethink and rephrase and he took it with grace and humor.
"Okay, okay. I wasn't exactly James Dean, but I wasn't John Gotti either. The point is, I got through it thanks to Kevin and Bobby. Now... I'm a good guy."
"What about Kevin?"
"You mean would he be proud? Yeah, I think so. One of my friends at the Agency showed me the report he sent in when he was tryin' to convince 'em to take me on. He used a lot more words than Hobbes ever did... longer ones too, but basically he told the bigwigs the same thing. I was a trained thief and a stubborn, independent, snot-nosed punk. Then... then he said that all that was on the surface. Underneath he knew I had a good heart, if somebody'd bother to drag it out of storage and give it a tune-up."
"Your mom gave you life. Kevin saved it."
"Pretty much."
"And all the good you're doing now, do you see it as a tribute to them and their belief in you?"
"I never thought about it that way.... but I guess so."
"Now I understand why you're having such a hard time letting go of those kids. This is a ingrained habit."
"What is?"
"Living your life for people who aren't here anymore."
Darien stared at Cheryl in mild horror for several seconds. His initial reaction turned to confusion, then to sadness as her point sank in. "You're such a survivor, Darien. You've come through losses that would have crushed other people. I can help you make it through this one too, if you'll only let me. I'm not saying that those four children should be wiped from your memory. The idea is to forgive yourself for what you *actually* did wrong, if anything, treasure what you've learned and let the rest go. Think about it and we'll talk more next week, okay?"
"Yeah. You know, you got the weirdest way of makin' a point. It's like playin' Twister to follow you 'till you finally get somewhere."
"Whatever works. As long as it gets the message through."
"Not yet... but soon, I think. I'm outta here. See you Monday."
"Have a good week."
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Half an hour later, after a quick fast food meal, Darien was on the way back to the Agency to check in with Bobby and the Official. Wrung out from his session with Cheryl, he turned the radio up full blast, trying to drown out the relentlessly cycling thoughts in his brain. After a few minutes, he realized it was giving him nothing but a headache, so he turned it off just in time to hear his cell phone ring from deep in his jacket pocket. Pulling the car over, he flailed in the back seat for a minute or two, finally grasping his coat and pulling it into the front with him. Another few seconds and he had the phone to his ear.
"Darien's House of Migraines and All-Night Chinese Buffet. Darien Fawkes speaking. Can I take your order?"
The response was slow in coming, but when it did, the slurred speech pattern told him his caller was obviously drunk. It took him a few sentences and pieces of sentences to identify who was on the other end of the line.
"Fawkes.... That name just doesn't fit you. I never thought it did. You're nothing like a fox. You're not cunning... or smart.... who the hell decided you get to keep that name?"
"You're bombed, Monroe. Go find somewhere to sleep it off. Like face down in the Pacific." Darien growled, drawing the phone away from his face in preparation for hitting the disconnect button. Luckily, he caught Alex's next words before that happened.
"Don't you dare hang up on me! You do and you'll never see them again, you bastard!"
"Them? Who's them, Alex?" he asked, deliberately tempering all anger out of his voice.
"Them! Your precious Claire and that... abomination you and Hobbes created! Who else would I be talking about?!"
"Are they okay?"
"For the moment. It depends on how fast you get back here, now doesn't it?"
Grimly, Darien pulled back into traffic and raced off toward the Agency.
"I'm on my way, Alex. Tell me what you want, okay? Anything you want, I'll pick it up on the way an' bring it you."
"Pick it up on the way... damn, you think you're so funny. My son is not a gallon of milk! What I want.... what I need more than anything in the whole world you can't give me. Noone can...."
"Okay. I get it now. This is about me havin' a child when you don't. This is about James..."
"Don't you dare even speak his name! Don't you dare!"
"Look, I'm sorry for how things worked out, Monroe, but none of that was my fault. I didn't make you give up your little boy...."
"No...no, of course not. You just shot him point blank in the chest rather than bring him home to me... what, couldn't you stand the thought of someone else on this team having a child? You didn't want to give up all the attention... is that it?!"
"Alex... back up. I don't understand..."
"You don't have to. You killed my baby, you son of a bitch... if you haul ass back to the Agency, maybe you'll be in time to watch me kill yours."
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TBC.....