Gaby, Patrick, Scott, Jimmy Duran, and any others you don't recognize are mine.
Violet is... ?
Rated PG-13 : Harsh language; violence; sexual content.
Reviews are appreciated, please take a moment to leave one.
There were guards posted outside the hospital room, two Silver Guardians, trying to stay alert in uncomfortable chairs. Wes nodded to them. There was no need for words, he opened the door quietly, and went in. It was almost silent inside, except for the soft beep of medical equipment. The lights were lowered. He gazed at Steve's pale face, and took a few steps to his bedside, before he saw the other person in the room. Eric was in a chair by the window, had probably been there all day while Wes took care of necessary business at Bio-Lab. He turned back to watch Steve for a few moments, and then pulled up a chair and sat down.
"How is he?" he asked, keeping his voice low.
Eric shrugged. "The doctor said he has a concussion. They've done what they can, just have to wait for him to wake up. Hope he'll be all right."
"Yeah. Hope so." He turned his head to watch the bed and its silent occupant again. "Have you been here all this time?"
"Went downstairs to get something to eat."
"Good. You could go home now, if you want. I'll stick around."
"No, Gaby's meeting me here soon." Eric paused, something in his attitude transmitting tension. "How'd it go with Violet?" he asked after a moment.
"She said she doesn't know anything. But -- I don't know. She seemed uncomfortable. I have the feeling something's going on."
Eric looked at him sharply. "Jen would never cover up for someone who did something like this."
Wes hesitated. "Patrick and Scott are like her family. She feels loyal to them."
"Would she let them get away with something like this?" Eric nodded towards the bed and its unconscious occupant, his voice rising in anger.
He didn't know for sure, not by any process of logic. All he had was faith, his conviction that Jen was there, buried somewhere inside Violet, some deep inner sense that refused to be shaken, telling him that she would never let him down. "She'll do the right thing," he said finally.
"I hope so."
They both sat silently for a while after that, listening to the sounds of machinery, the occasional faint voice or footstep from outside the room. It was so quiet, peaceful really, that Wes found himself relaxing a little. But not Eric. Wes watched as he restlessly got up and walked to the window, pulling up the blinds to look out over the lights of the nighttime city.
"Anything wrong?" he asked.
The answer took a few moments. "You know what Gaby told me, when I called her up from here?"
"No… what?" Wes prompted.
"I asked her to get a phone number so I could notify Steve's family, so they could get here to see him. She said he doesn't have anyone here, his parents are living in Europe and he's an only child."
"Yeah, I know," Wes said cautiously. "So?"
"I didn't know that. I knew he's not married, from his personnel records. But I didn't know anything about his parents, or the rest of his family. Don't know anything about his friends, or even if he has any, or if he has a girlfriend. He could have a boyfriend, for all I know. I'll bet he's told you all that stuff. I've worked with the guy for more than two years, longer than either you or Gaby. Thought we were close. But I never talked about anything personal with him. Never bothered to get to know him."
At a loss, Wes struggled to find something to say. "Well, you tend to stick to business. He's like that too."
"But he talked to Gaby about his personal life. Probably to you, too."
"Well, I guess…"
Eric turned his back to the window, leaning against the frame, his face shadowed. "I've never had much in the way of friends. Never tried. Didn't think I wanted them. Let someone get too close, and they're just -- in a better position to hurt you."
Wes tried to blink back his own surge of guilt. "Like I did to you. Is that what you're getting at?"
"I don't know…" Eric's shoulders rose and fell in a sigh as he turned his profile to Wes, glancing out the window again. His voice sounded forced when he continued. "I guess I'm saying I don't know how to be a friend. How to get close. Even with Gaby… You and she are about the only people I felt like I really trusted, but..."
"But not any more," Wes said softly.
"No… I guess not."
"What happened… it wasn't real. It wasn't the way I really feel. I wish you could believe that."
"It hurt, Wes. It really hurt." His voice was low, his face turned away. Wes watched, seeing the muscles of Eric's jaw clench, realizing what it must have cost a man as proud as he was to make an admission like that.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I know it doesn't help. But it's true."
"Why?" He was facing Wes again, his voice tense, with an edge of anger. "Explain it to me. At that moment, why did you hate me so much?"
"Eric…" Wes looked away, unable to face the intensity, the accusation, in his expression. "It wasn't you. I was in a fantasy. Everything was different, everyone was against me. You weren't the only one." He looked up, taking a breath to help him find the courage to be completely honest. "Norman started it, by suggesting to me that you and Jen were sleeping together. I just went crazy with jealousy. All the things you said about her..."
"Not me, Wes. Your idea of what I'm like."
"I know. And you're right, a lot of it came from me." A hint of the dark emotions of that dream world came back as he went on, his voice sinking almost into a whisper. "In the fantasy, my dad said you were better than me. You came out of -- of nothing, and nowhere. No education, no family, no money, no advantages. I had everything, every opportunity. But now -- we have the same job, and you know more about the business side of Bio-Lab than I do. He was right, about the real world too. You're tougher, more hard-working, and more ambitious than I am. You've pulled yourself up out of the gutter, and I've barely stayed where I'm supposed to be."
Wes raised his eyes to meet Eric's. "Hasn't it occurred to you that maybe I feel threatened? That I'm envious of you?"
Eric's mouth twisted in a bitter huff of laughter. "You're envious of me? When you're the boss's son? The one who never needs to worry about getting fired, or what people think of you, or what kind of future you'll have?" He straightened, fingers curling. "The guy everyone likes, for Chrissakes. The guy who never has trouble talking to anyone, the guy who can get along with everyone, who never makes enemies…"
He stopped, and then leaned back against the window frame again. "The truth is, I'm no competition for you. Even when it comes to the Guardians. You have a different style, but it's just as effective as mine. You're so damn laid-back... I've always wondered why the guys work just as hard for you as they do for me. But they do. And on the business end… people will always want to deal with you. Not me."
"I don't know about that. You've always managed to get what you want."
Eric snorted faintly. "Not always."
Wes smiled. "Why? What do you want now that you don't have?"
Eric's eyes rested on him for a long moment. "I want things back the way they were," he finally said, very quietly.
"So do I. But that's up to you, isn't it?"
"Wes…" He turned his eyes away again. "I wish I could just forget about it. But it happened. It changed things. No going back."
It felt even more bitter than he had thought it would. Wes swallowed disappointment and frustration, and even tried to smile, although his lips trembled. He felt Eric's gaze on him and controlled himself with an effort. "I don't believe that," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "This morning, when you found Steve, remember what you did first? You called me. Not 911, or the infirmary. Me. Somewhere inside, you still trust me, dammit. We are still friends. Brothers. And someday you'll realize it."
He saw a hint of a smile in response. "And people think I'm stubborn…" Eric said softly.
"I never give up, remember? Not when it's this important."
"Well..." Eric crossed his arms, his body relaxing slightly. "At least you didn't call me a Chink."
"Probably would have, but I didn't think of it."
Eric surprised him with a laugh. And, for a moment, things were the way they used to be, as the two of them smiled at each other.
Gaby got out of her car and stared up at the hospital building looming above her against the night sky, for a moment wondering which of those identical windows hid the room Steve was in. She had called, she knew he was still unconscious, in critical but stable condition, under observation. And Eric would be there, waiting.
Giving her another reason to come. To see Steve, of course, but also to make Eric go home and get some rest. After the shock of finding his friend and co-worker like that, he would be upset. And, as usual, refusing to admit it. For a moment she heaved a small inner sigh. Would have been easier to just go home, let Eric deal with his problems, his many problems, by himself. But she quickly stifled that unworthy thought.
And of course, he'd be angry if he knew she had come alone. When they had spoken during the day, he had told her he wanted her to have a bodyguard again. He was being paranoid, of course, the attack on Steve didn't mean she was in danger. So she had ignored him, and left Bio-Lab alone. She didn't want to go back to being watched all the time, being dependant, having to wait for someone to be available, feeling guilty at taking up their time for what must be a very boring job. Only a quick drive from work to the hospital, and Eric was here, it had seemed safe enough.
She was almost there, almost inside the door, almost safe in the bright reception room, when he stepped into her path. She stopped, staring, heart beginning to pound, the unwelcome memory of another night coming back. The same face was before her now -- almost the same face. But the one she was looking at tonight was human, not the silver-haired, purple-skinned mutant who had taken her by force all those months ago.
"Gaby," he said. "It's Patrick. Please wait, I want to talk to you."
Patrick. Not so frightening, after all. But she could still feel icy fear trickle through her veins. "What about?" she asked, trying not to show it as she stepped back.
"I know Steve Miller is here. I know he was injured."
"Yes?"
"Are you going to see him?"
"Yes. As soon as I can get inside." She stepped to the side, trying to get around him.
He reached out, a hand grasping her arm, his fingers hard and cold on her bare skin, his grip surprisingly strong. "Gaby -- please don't be afraid of me," he murmured. "I don't want to harm you." His tone was so sincere, she resisted the impulse to struggle, and met his eyes.
"What do you want?"
"Just to say -- we're sorry he was hurt."
"What?" She stared at him, startled. "What do you mean? Did you have something to do with this?"
"No." His face blanked, as if a blind had been drawn. "But I know Wes suspects us. Probably Eric, too."
"They do? Why?" It was a disingenuous question; she knew perfectly well why.
"Whatever goes wrong, they'll blame us. I suppose it's natural enough. They think Violet is Jen, that we're keeping her from them." His expression showed a trace of bitterness. "We'll never find any peace here. All we want is to be left alone. To take care of Violet, try to make up for some of what Norman did. But his -- his evil lives on…" He looked slightly amused as she stared at him quizzically, lifting her brows. "Melodramatic, I know. But that's Norman."
"You mean that was Norman."
"Quite." He was definitely amused now, but with an edge of something unhappy. Then he continued in an impersonal tone. "Well. I'll let you get going. I hope Mr. Miller will make a complete recovery."
"So do I," she said automatically.
"And I hope your Silver Guardians and the police will find whoever was responsible. A burglar, undoubtedly. Miller must have surprised him, and was overpowered."
"But why leave Steve spread out on Eric's desk like that?" Gaby said, watching him closely. "Maybe whoever did that wanted to hurt Eric. Or meant it as a warning."
There was a flicker in Patrick's eyes, only for a moment before it vanished in cold darkness. "Or maybe -- whoever it was -- wanted to make sure Miller was found as soon as possible," he said, his voice revealing nothing. "Wanted him to get help quickly. Didn't want him to die."
"A sudden attack of conscience? Hard to believe."
"Perhaps. I should go." He took a step back, looked at her for a moment, and then smiled. "I really do see why Norman liked you so much," he said softly. "Thank you for talking to me."
She shrugged. "No problem."
"Goodnight."
And in a moment he was gone into the shadows, moving quickly, vanishing as if she had never seen him. Leaving her with the question of what, and whether to tell Eric. What Patrick had said might be important. But what had he said, exactly? What did it mean, if anything? Wes and Eric already suspected the Ryders, after all. And if she told, Eric would fly into one of his rages -- at Patrick, for daring to approach her, at her, for going out without a guard.
It was late, she was tired, Eric had enough to think about for one day. Maybe she didn't need to tell him now. Later… It could wait until tomorrow...
She stood in the basement, near the entrance to the secret rooms below. Violet stared down, wondering. What had happened last night, that Scott and Patrick hadn't told her? There were so many things they hid from her, she suspected many more than she had any idea of. What had they done? If they had hurt that man -- but she couldn't believe it, not for a second, not her gentle Scott and Patrick.
"Violet?" She turned. Scott was at the foot of the stairs leading up to the rest of the house, watching her. "What are you doing up so late?" he asked.
She hadn't even thought about sleep. After restless and troubled hours, she had found herself down here. "Thinking," she answered.
"About what?"
"What happened last night? Did -- did you have anything to do with the attack on Steve Miller at Bio-Lab?"
Scott took a step closer, his face unreadable in the semi-darkness of the basement. "We did not harm him," came the soft reply.
"But -- then, where were you? Where did you go?"
"We did what we had to do. That's all I can tell you. But Patrick and I did not hurt anyone."
"So many secrets," she said softly. "Why? What are you doing here? What else aren't you telling me?"
They stared into each other's faces for a few endless moments. "I've told you all I can," he finally said. "Please... trust us. We're trying so hard to protect you, to..." His eyes drifted away, his voice fading. "Trying to keep things under control..."
"What things?"
"Please. Don't ask me questions I can't answer."
Tears of frustration and uncertainty blurred her eyes. He didn't stop her when she went past him, didn't even turn around when she started up the stairs. Looking back, she felt such a wave of pity when she saw him still standing, shoulders slumped and head bowed, that she stopped and slowly went back, to slide her arms around his waist, her head leaning on his back.
"I'm sorry, Scott," she said. "I know you're trying to do the right thing."
"Yes." The answer was toneless, but his hand came up to touch her fingers.
"I want to do the right thing too, don't you understand?"
"We each will do what we must."
"Yes. What we must." She let go and started up the stairs again, this time not looking back.
Upstairs in her room, she undressed and went to bed. Some core of discipline she hadn't known she possessed helped her sleep a few hours. She knew she would need the rest, would need her strength, if her plan was going to work.
At the first hint of light through her window, before Scott and Patrick would be up, it took only minutes to collect the few things she thought she'd need, a few more minutes to slip outside unseen, run across the field to the highway under the morning sky, Wes's card with his phone number clutched in her hand.
TBC...