Newbie - Part 9
Disclaimer: Hasbro owns G.I. Joe. I don't. Please don't sue. I do own Cricket, however.
I've gotten a lot of feedback; thanks, everyone. If you see something I could be doing better, please, let me know. This is my first fic, and I want to keep doing better.
*****
Doc removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He'd been on call for almost forty hours, and he was beginning to read the same paragraph of his newspaper over and over again.
Edwin poked his head into Doc's office, knocking lightly on his doorframe. "Doc? Are you available?"
"You know what pisses me off?" Doc suddenly asked, out of nowhere.
"Um... no. Is now a bad-"
"The Jumble. You got your four words that need to be unscrambled. Now, three of them could be unscrambled by a mildly brain-damaged cat. But then you have your fourth word designed solely to drive you up the wall. Just when you think that they left a letter out, someone walks by, looks over your shoulder, and pulls the word out of his hat."
"Uh, okay. Can you see-"
"Then you spend about an hour figuring out what the answer to the riddle is, based on where the letters fall in the other four words. And it always turns out to be this lame pun that just makes you wanna cancel your newspaper."
Edwin came over to Doc's desk, saying, "Look, I know you have a lot on your-" Looking down at the newspaper, he suddenly said, "Agile."
"What?"
"The third word. It's 'agile'."
Doc was quiet for a minute, then said, "You're looking at the paper upside down. You automatically get an easier time of it. Look, it's practically unscrambled when you look at it upside down."
"That's just what I Was going to say, sir. Do you have a minute to talk to Cricket MacDougal?"
"Yeah." Doc rolled up the newspaper and tossed it aside in disgust. "And knock that 'sir' crap off."
"Yes, sir." Edwin went to the door, saying, "Go on in," to whoever was on the other side of it.
Cricket stepped through the doorway, smiling. "Hi, Doc. Is it a bad time?"
"Not really. I was just trying to slog though the Jumble."
"Oh, I love the Jumble!"
Doc muttered something under his breath. "Have a seat. How's Cover Girl doing?"
Sitting down in a slightly uncomfortable desk chair on the other side of Doc's desk, Cricket replied, "I guess she's doing as well as can be expected. She's hurting pretty bad, but she's trying not to complain too much."
"That doesn't sound like any Cover Girl I know. Are you sure you took the right one home?"
"Pretty sure. I mean, she gripes and complains about being bored or her back being stiff, but it's easy to see she's in a lot more pain than she wants to say."
"Well, seeing as how a Skystriker fell on her, it's understandable she'd be having some discomfort. Do me a favor; keep an eye on her and let me know how how she's coming along. She won't come to me and tell me she's not 100%; she'd go back behind the wheel tomorrow if I'd let her."
"Sure. I can do that."
"Thank you." Doc reached into a drawer and started rummaging around. As he did so, he said, "So. Enough about Courtney. How are you doing?"
Cricket shrugged. "I'm all right."
"Really?"
"I guess."
Doc found what he was looking for. He took a file folder, about an inch and a half thick, out of his drawer and put it on his desk. "I'm not supposed to be showing this to you. Do you know what it is?"
"A phone book?"
"This is your background file."
Cricket boggled. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Wow. That's pretty thick."
"We like to be thourough. Try not to be too weirded out."
Cricket thought for a moment, then said, "You know, I feel like I should be, but I'm really not. Can I ask who compiled it?"
"You can ask, but I won't answer. Besides, you're smart enough to have a pretty good idea."
"Hmm. So... it's all in there?"
"Mmm hmm." Doc smiled. "Care to test me?"
"Sure. Whaddya got?"
Doc opened the file to a random page. "Here we go. Not quite four years ago. You were trying out for the Olympic archery team."
"That's right," Cricket said, crossing her arms. "I didn't make the team."
"No, you didn't. You came pretty close, though. You were in third or fourth place all throughout the finals. Then on the last day of finals your hand cramped and you came in eighth."
"Okay. Sorry if I don't sound blown away, but all of that was in the paper."
"The paper doesn't say why your hand cramped. Seems you were so excited that you couldn't sleep the night before."
Cricket was stunned. "How did you -"
"You decided to make yourself sleepy. You made yourself sleepy six or seven times that night. I just want to suggest that in the future, Tylenol PM also works pretty well. Or at the very least, you might want to use the hand you don't use to draw your bow."
Cricket gave an embarrassed grin.
"Don't feel bad. Someday when Cover Girl's pissed me off enough - and believe me when I say that day is not far off - I'll tell you some stories about all the garbage I've had to fish out of her. Now, you didn't come here just so I could embarrass you."
"I didn't?"
"No, but I have to admit, that's a definite perk of my job. But why I - oh, before I forget. You said that you need some more Senokot?"
"Um, yeah. Things are starting to get very uncomfortable."
"Remind me to give you three days' worth when we're done. If you haven't had any relief after that I'll want to run some tests." He turned his attention back to the file. "Anyway, the reason I got into this is because Duke mentioned that you might want to talk."
"Yeah, he suggested the same thing to me."
There was a pause as each of them waited for the other to speak first.
"So," said Doc, finally, "do you want to tell me what happened?"
Cricket shrugged again. "You know what happened. Clutch pulled one over on me and I kinda overreacted."
"You think you 'kinda overreacted'?"
"No," replied Cricket, slightly annoyed, "I totally overreacted. I apologized to Duke, I apologized to Clutch."
"What made you react that way?"
"I dunno. I was embarrassed. I knew people would be singing 'The Lollipop Guild' at me for days."
"Have they?"
"You know they have. You did yourself, just this morning."
"It's a catchy song. What were you doing before you saw Clutch's e-mail?"
"I was waiting to get Courtney. Checking my messages. I might have been eating."
Doc pulled a piece of paper out of the back of Cricket's folder. "What's this?"
Looking at it, Cricket said, "This is the e-mail Jack sent me that afternoon."
"Jack. That's your brother, John, right?"
"That's right."
"How old is he?"
"He's thirty... no, wait. He's thirty-one, now."
"Really? Quite an age difference." Doc looked at the file some more. "Now, you two - you know Cricket, that candy dish is there for a reason. Stop staring at it and take one."
"Thanks." She did, finding a butterscotch. "I didn't think that eleven years was so unusual."
"Bull. It's thirteen years. Relax -" (Cricket had stiffened noticably) "- almost everyone on this base lied about their age to join up. Duke wasn't even fifteen. You're not in trouble." He put down the file folder, no longer pretending that he hadn't already read the entire thing. "How old were you when your mother died?"
Cricket hesitated. "She died giving birth to me."
"What was that like?"
"I didn't know anything else. It never seemed unusual."
"What was her name?"
"Mary. Dad named me after her."
"Do you feel like your family ever held you responsible?"
There was no hesitation."No. They always told me that it was just something that happened."
"Every now and then you refer to your mother in the present tense. When you first got here, you asked Duke not to call you 'Mary' since that was what your mom called you when you were in trouble."
"I'm talking about Liz."
"Your sister-in-law."
"Yeah. She and Jack started dating when I was about six or so, then got married when I was nine. She's always been around, and she filled that role for me early on. I've never considered her anything but my mother."
"And they have a son now?"
Cricket beamed. "Billy. He's four years old, and I swear to God he's gonna have his own TV show someday. Funny, funny kid."
"Okay, and Billy was named after your father, then?"
"That's right. Bill MacDougal."
"Can we talk about him for a minute?"
Cricket went quiet for a minute. "I always remember him as being really tall. I look at pictures, and it looks like he's about the same height as Jackie, maybe five ten, but I always felt like he was a giant, you know? He could carry me around with one arm. And he could drive a car. That impressed the hell out of me. I know it doesn't sound like much, but I used to like to climb underneath our car, and look under the hood, and look at all the pieces interlock and fit together, and I knew that my dad knew how to make everything do what they were supposed to do."
Doc smiled.
"What can I say?" asked Cricket. "I was seven. He was a teacher. I used to get really jealous, 'cause he would get all these other kids every day." She played with the candy wrapper.
Doc watched her for a moment, then asked, "What were you doing when you got Clutch's e-mail?"
Quietly, holding herself together, Mary replied, "I got an e-mail from Jackie. I missed Dad's memorial Mass. It was yesterday."
"How long has it been now?"
"Eleven years." Slowly, she said, "There was a really bad snowstorm. It dumped about three and a half feet of really wet, really heavy snow in thirty-six hours."
"I remember it."
"Jack was away at college, so Dad asked me if I'd help him shovel. I promised him I would. Mostly, I just farted around."
"You were seven."
"Even so."
"My nephew is seven. When I ask him to go shovel some snow with me, I know it means I'm going to shovel snow and he's going to build tunnels and make snow angels."
"Maybe."
"It makes him think he's helping. It lets him know I think he's important."
"In my family... on the MacDougal side... there's a history of heart problems."
"Yes, I know."
"Dad was shoveling the car and had started clearing the walk. I -" She had to stop.
"Cricket... listen. I know that you know, intellectually, that it wasn't your fault."
"I know."
"Well, you need to start believing it. Look at this." He rummaged through the folder and pulled out a piece of paper. "Recognize this? This is an incident report from when you were in fifth grade. Dean Fagan made fun of your freckles the day of another blizzard and you pummelled the crap out of him. And over here," he went on, pulling something much more official looking out, "is an arrest report. Do you remember this? You were arrested a few weeks beore you joined up. Do you want to tell me why?"
Tears were beginning to pool in Mary's eyes. "Tom Coelho."
"Tom Coelho. Again, he made a stupid, insensitive comment that you killed your entire family, and you almost broke his jaw. Your brother was able to talk to his family and no charges were pressed." He flipped though the file. "I look at this file and do you know what I see? Someone who's just too good to be true, with the exception of about half a dozen incidents like this. You've made the best out of a very unusual situation. You were raised by your brother and sister-in-law. Your grades are, on the whole, pretty good. You've never smoked anything in your life; you've been drunk exactly one time, didn't like it, and have barely touched alcohol since; you're absurdly friendly, very outgoing, hopelessly incompetent around boys to the point of never having been on a real date -"
"Wait! What about Timmy Sammarco?"
"Despite what you told your friends, that was not a date. Timmy Sammarco works with your brother and he was taking you to see "The Nutcracker" because Liz had to work and Jack would rather eat bees than go to the ballet."
"It was kind of a date."
"You were fourteen. Timmy was twenty-eight and already married. It was certainly not a date. And look at all of this. You can play the accordion, which I'm afraid is bound to become public knowledge around here sooner or later. One extremely fun night aside, you are a world-class, Olympic-caliber archer. Hell, you taught the upstairs neighbor's kid to read, for the love of God. Stop punishing yourself for something you had no control over."
Looking very, very small, Mary said, "But... "
"No buts. Mary Rosen MacDougal died because she was thirty-nine years old, not in great health, and her body just couldn't handle giving birth again. William MacDougal died because he had a heart attack - which was his second, incidentally - due to a genetic, hereditary predisposition to them. You ran into the house and called 911. You did what you were supposed to do. There was nothing else you could have done to prevent it."
"I could've helped."
"You were helping. Seven-year-olds generally don't shovel a lot of snow." Doc took off his glasses and looked straight at Mary. "You didn't kill your parents, Mae. You have to stop hating yourself. You have to accept that you couldn't have done anything. And you DEFINITELY have to stop turning that anger outward, because I really don't want to have to recommend that you be discharged."
Mae, sniffling and snotting, nodded.
"We can talk about this some more next week, if you like."
"I would like that, if it's okay."
"Of course it is."
At that point, Hawk came wheeling into Doc's office, holding a cell phone. Cricket bolted to attention, gathering herself together.
"As you were, Cricket. I only came in here for a minute. Doc, I'm on hold with the Secretary of Defense. I'm gonna need that study we talked about earlier."
"Sure, Hawk. Let me just take care of Cricket first. Again, I'm gonna give you three days' worth. Okay?"
"What's that for?" Hawk asked. "Everything all right?"
"Of course, sir," replied Cricket, more formally than she needed to. "Doc's giving me some Senokot."
"Really? What's that for?"
It was a mixture of her frazzled nerves and her natural terror of General Hawk that made her blurt out "I can't poop, sir."
After a very short pause, Hawk said into the phone he was carrying, "No, Mr. Secretary, that was the new recruit I was just telling you about."
*****
"You know what you could do?" Courtney asked. "You could help me get dressed, then get me downstairs and back to work."
"I could?" Allie asked.
"Definitely. The Wolverine practically drives itself. I could just go tinker for a little while."
"Actually, that does sound good, because I was just thinking how great it would be to wake up tomorrow morning and not have a job."
"Alliiiiiiiiie -" Courtney whined.
"No. Your insides are all gooey. You're not moving. When do you take your medicine?"
"Not for another three hours."
"Well then, watch TV or something. Take your mind off it."
The door to the apartment swung open, and Mae entered. She looked tired, but she usually did lately.
"Hey kiddo," Allie called as Mae went into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. "How'd it go?"
"Well, it was interesting." Mae plopped herself down on the couch next to Courtney and opened her YoJoe. To Courtney, she asked, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. I want to go back to work."
"Okay. Touch your toes."
"What?"
"If you touch your toes, I will personally carry you back to the motor pool."
"Seriously?"
"Absolutely."
Courtney slowly inched forward, extended her hands, and grunted for three solid minutes as she failed to get her fingertips past her kneecaps.
"Courtney, stop," Mae said. "You're gonna hurt yourself again."
Courtney slowly reclined. She was wincing, and tears had formed in her eyes, but she smiled and said, "Definitely tomorrow."
Mae turned to Allie and said, "I can take over for you if you have somewhere to be."
"I don't need a babysitter."
Allie said "A, yes you do. B, I'm not on duty tonight, but Dash is, so I don't really have much going on. And C... well, let's just say 'yes, you do' again."
Mae stretched, groaning as she did so. "I'm sooooo tired. I haven't done my archery drills in three days. I really should, but I don't wanna move."
"You're still off tomorrow, though, right?" Courtney asked.
"Yeah."
"Fuck it. Do it then. You'll have all day before Roadblock's thing."
"Sounds good to me," Mae replied, drinking her soda and letting her attention fall to the TV. "Holy God!" she said.
"What?" asked Courtney.
"Your feet are in the way of the TV. They're enormous."
"What?"
"I never noticed before."
"Well, I'm five eleven. They have to be a certain size or I'll keep falling down."
"Yeah, but that's not normal."
"There's nothing wrong with my feet!"
"Did your mom directly handle radium when she was pregnant with you?"
"Yeah? Well... you're... um... short."
"And with that, I bask in my victory."
"Oh, I'm too tired and in too much pain to deal with you right now."
"I'm getting up. Do you need anything?"
"If you could get the blue pillow off my bed I'd appreciate it."
"Got it. Allie?"
"I'm all set."
As Mae got off the couch, Shana, still in her uniform, let herself into the apartment.
"Do you know what I just realized?" she asked, eyes wide.
"Here it comes," said Allie.
"What did you realize?" Courtney asked.
Shana seemed to let the thought roll around in her mind for a moment before answering. "I'm going to be thirty tomorrow."
Allie looked at her watch. "Five forty-three. I have to go call Ace."
"Ace? Why do you need to call Ace?" Shana asked.
"To see if I won the 'Scarlett begins freaking out when she realizes her twenties are over' pool." She began dialing.
Frantic, Shana exclaimed, "My twenties are over!"
Someone answered the phone. "Armbruster."
"Ace? It's Jaye. It's happening."
"Yeah? You got a time?"
"Five forty-three."
"I will never be married!" Shana cried. "I could've had my family started..."
"Yeah, I think we can officially call the pool closed," Ace said. "Hang on, I'm gonna grab the board."
"My dad should be a grandpa by now!"
Covering the phone, Allie said, "Your dad *is* a grandpa. Your brother Frank's boy, remember?"
"What? That doesn't count! That kid's practically got two heads!"
"Okay, I'm back," said Ace. "Okay, let's see... nope, sorry, Jaye. If she had held out for twelve more minutes you'd have won."
"Damn. Who did win?"
"You ready for this? Duke."
"Are you serious?" Allie laughed.
"Yep. That should make things more interesting."
"All right. Well, thanks, Ace."
"No, thank *you*. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"I'll be there. 'Night." She hung up.
"Do you know," said Courtney, "I think you should think back to when I turned thirty. I belive I handled it with a great deal of grace and decorum, and that you could learn something from the example I set."
"Yes, I remember when you turned thirty," Shana replied. "You cried for three solid days and walked around the base in your private school uniform. Which, incidentally, did not fit you anymore."
"But I walked *gracefully*."
"Wow. You guys are old," said Allie.
"You know, you're gonna be here someday, too."
"Yeah, in six years. I'm thinking of having my head frozen until they can find a cure for it."
"I know I need to calm down," said Shana, "Because that actually sounded like a workable plan just now. I'm gonna go freshen up. Be right back." She headed down the hall.
As Allie continued to make old jokes at Courtney, Mae followed Shana to the bathroom door. Knocking gently, she asked, "Shana? Are you busy?"
"Uh... kinda. Do you need to get in here? I'll just be a minute."
"No, no, it's nothing like that. Believe me, I wish it was. I can wait."
"I'm done. Hang on." Mae heard the door unlock as the water ran. As she stepped inside, Shana was washing her hands. "What's up? she asked.
"Sorry to rush you. It's just that this is the only room in the apartment with any real privacy."
"Mine's the same way. I understand. Something on your mind?"
"Just a little bit. I was talking to Doc today."
"Everything all right?"
"Yeah, for the most part. He showed me my file."
Shana turned. "He did? Really?"
"Well, he didn't let me sit down and read it or anything. He just showed me a couple of pages." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I didn't realize there was so much background on me. I'm only eighteen."
"Sure. We have to be pretty thourough."
"He didn't tell me who compiled it, you know."
"He's not supposed to."
"I mean, I assume it would be someone in Intelligence."
"That would make the most amount of sense."
Mae took a deep breath. "Shana, I know I haven't been here very long, and I also know don't really know you that well, but what you think of me is very important to me, and I want you to know that I Was talking to Doc about my parents and I know that I didn't kill them, but... I'm going to start trying to believe it."
Shana looked at Mae a long time. Then she took Mae in her arms, rocking her gently as she began to cry softly. "You're going to let Doc help you?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And if he decides it's necessary, you'll let him find someone else who can help you?"
"Yes." She sniffed. "I'm sorry. You must have thought I was completely insane."
"Of course not. You were just a little kid. It's just time you got over this, that's all." She kissed Mae's forehead gently, the way her father used to kiss hers. Then she smiled and said, "That's not me saying I wrote your dossier, by the way."
Mae laughed. "Of course not."
Disclaimer: Hasbro owns G.I. Joe. I don't. Please don't sue. I do own Cricket, however.
I've gotten a lot of feedback; thanks, everyone. If you see something I could be doing better, please, let me know. This is my first fic, and I want to keep doing better.
*****
Doc removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He'd been on call for almost forty hours, and he was beginning to read the same paragraph of his newspaper over and over again.
Edwin poked his head into Doc's office, knocking lightly on his doorframe. "Doc? Are you available?"
"You know what pisses me off?" Doc suddenly asked, out of nowhere.
"Um... no. Is now a bad-"
"The Jumble. You got your four words that need to be unscrambled. Now, three of them could be unscrambled by a mildly brain-damaged cat. But then you have your fourth word designed solely to drive you up the wall. Just when you think that they left a letter out, someone walks by, looks over your shoulder, and pulls the word out of his hat."
"Uh, okay. Can you see-"
"Then you spend about an hour figuring out what the answer to the riddle is, based on where the letters fall in the other four words. And it always turns out to be this lame pun that just makes you wanna cancel your newspaper."
Edwin came over to Doc's desk, saying, "Look, I know you have a lot on your-" Looking down at the newspaper, he suddenly said, "Agile."
"What?"
"The third word. It's 'agile'."
Doc was quiet for a minute, then said, "You're looking at the paper upside down. You automatically get an easier time of it. Look, it's practically unscrambled when you look at it upside down."
"That's just what I Was going to say, sir. Do you have a minute to talk to Cricket MacDougal?"
"Yeah." Doc rolled up the newspaper and tossed it aside in disgust. "And knock that 'sir' crap off."
"Yes, sir." Edwin went to the door, saying, "Go on in," to whoever was on the other side of it.
Cricket stepped through the doorway, smiling. "Hi, Doc. Is it a bad time?"
"Not really. I was just trying to slog though the Jumble."
"Oh, I love the Jumble!"
Doc muttered something under his breath. "Have a seat. How's Cover Girl doing?"
Sitting down in a slightly uncomfortable desk chair on the other side of Doc's desk, Cricket replied, "I guess she's doing as well as can be expected. She's hurting pretty bad, but she's trying not to complain too much."
"That doesn't sound like any Cover Girl I know. Are you sure you took the right one home?"
"Pretty sure. I mean, she gripes and complains about being bored or her back being stiff, but it's easy to see she's in a lot more pain than she wants to say."
"Well, seeing as how a Skystriker fell on her, it's understandable she'd be having some discomfort. Do me a favor; keep an eye on her and let me know how how she's coming along. She won't come to me and tell me she's not 100%; she'd go back behind the wheel tomorrow if I'd let her."
"Sure. I can do that."
"Thank you." Doc reached into a drawer and started rummaging around. As he did so, he said, "So. Enough about Courtney. How are you doing?"
Cricket shrugged. "I'm all right."
"Really?"
"I guess."
Doc found what he was looking for. He took a file folder, about an inch and a half thick, out of his drawer and put it on his desk. "I'm not supposed to be showing this to you. Do you know what it is?"
"A phone book?"
"This is your background file."
Cricket boggled. "Seriously?"
"Seriously."
"Wow. That's pretty thick."
"We like to be thourough. Try not to be too weirded out."
Cricket thought for a moment, then said, "You know, I feel like I should be, but I'm really not. Can I ask who compiled it?"
"You can ask, but I won't answer. Besides, you're smart enough to have a pretty good idea."
"Hmm. So... it's all in there?"
"Mmm hmm." Doc smiled. "Care to test me?"
"Sure. Whaddya got?"
Doc opened the file to a random page. "Here we go. Not quite four years ago. You were trying out for the Olympic archery team."
"That's right," Cricket said, crossing her arms. "I didn't make the team."
"No, you didn't. You came pretty close, though. You were in third or fourth place all throughout the finals. Then on the last day of finals your hand cramped and you came in eighth."
"Okay. Sorry if I don't sound blown away, but all of that was in the paper."
"The paper doesn't say why your hand cramped. Seems you were so excited that you couldn't sleep the night before."
Cricket was stunned. "How did you -"
"You decided to make yourself sleepy. You made yourself sleepy six or seven times that night. I just want to suggest that in the future, Tylenol PM also works pretty well. Or at the very least, you might want to use the hand you don't use to draw your bow."
Cricket gave an embarrassed grin.
"Don't feel bad. Someday when Cover Girl's pissed me off enough - and believe me when I say that day is not far off - I'll tell you some stories about all the garbage I've had to fish out of her. Now, you didn't come here just so I could embarrass you."
"I didn't?"
"No, but I have to admit, that's a definite perk of my job. But why I - oh, before I forget. You said that you need some more Senokot?"
"Um, yeah. Things are starting to get very uncomfortable."
"Remind me to give you three days' worth when we're done. If you haven't had any relief after that I'll want to run some tests." He turned his attention back to the file. "Anyway, the reason I got into this is because Duke mentioned that you might want to talk."
"Yeah, he suggested the same thing to me."
There was a pause as each of them waited for the other to speak first.
"So," said Doc, finally, "do you want to tell me what happened?"
Cricket shrugged again. "You know what happened. Clutch pulled one over on me and I kinda overreacted."
"You think you 'kinda overreacted'?"
"No," replied Cricket, slightly annoyed, "I totally overreacted. I apologized to Duke, I apologized to Clutch."
"What made you react that way?"
"I dunno. I was embarrassed. I knew people would be singing 'The Lollipop Guild' at me for days."
"Have they?"
"You know they have. You did yourself, just this morning."
"It's a catchy song. What were you doing before you saw Clutch's e-mail?"
"I was waiting to get Courtney. Checking my messages. I might have been eating."
Doc pulled a piece of paper out of the back of Cricket's folder. "What's this?"
Looking at it, Cricket said, "This is the e-mail Jack sent me that afternoon."
"Jack. That's your brother, John, right?"
"That's right."
"How old is he?"
"He's thirty... no, wait. He's thirty-one, now."
"Really? Quite an age difference." Doc looked at the file some more. "Now, you two - you know Cricket, that candy dish is there for a reason. Stop staring at it and take one."
"Thanks." She did, finding a butterscotch. "I didn't think that eleven years was so unusual."
"Bull. It's thirteen years. Relax -" (Cricket had stiffened noticably) "- almost everyone on this base lied about their age to join up. Duke wasn't even fifteen. You're not in trouble." He put down the file folder, no longer pretending that he hadn't already read the entire thing. "How old were you when your mother died?"
Cricket hesitated. "She died giving birth to me."
"What was that like?"
"I didn't know anything else. It never seemed unusual."
"What was her name?"
"Mary. Dad named me after her."
"Do you feel like your family ever held you responsible?"
There was no hesitation."No. They always told me that it was just something that happened."
"Every now and then you refer to your mother in the present tense. When you first got here, you asked Duke not to call you 'Mary' since that was what your mom called you when you were in trouble."
"I'm talking about Liz."
"Your sister-in-law."
"Yeah. She and Jack started dating when I was about six or so, then got married when I was nine. She's always been around, and she filled that role for me early on. I've never considered her anything but my mother."
"And they have a son now?"
Cricket beamed. "Billy. He's four years old, and I swear to God he's gonna have his own TV show someday. Funny, funny kid."
"Okay, and Billy was named after your father, then?"
"That's right. Bill MacDougal."
"Can we talk about him for a minute?"
Cricket went quiet for a minute. "I always remember him as being really tall. I look at pictures, and it looks like he's about the same height as Jackie, maybe five ten, but I always felt like he was a giant, you know? He could carry me around with one arm. And he could drive a car. That impressed the hell out of me. I know it doesn't sound like much, but I used to like to climb underneath our car, and look under the hood, and look at all the pieces interlock and fit together, and I knew that my dad knew how to make everything do what they were supposed to do."
Doc smiled.
"What can I say?" asked Cricket. "I was seven. He was a teacher. I used to get really jealous, 'cause he would get all these other kids every day." She played with the candy wrapper.
Doc watched her for a moment, then asked, "What were you doing when you got Clutch's e-mail?"
Quietly, holding herself together, Mary replied, "I got an e-mail from Jackie. I missed Dad's memorial Mass. It was yesterday."
"How long has it been now?"
"Eleven years." Slowly, she said, "There was a really bad snowstorm. It dumped about three and a half feet of really wet, really heavy snow in thirty-six hours."
"I remember it."
"Jack was away at college, so Dad asked me if I'd help him shovel. I promised him I would. Mostly, I just farted around."
"You were seven."
"Even so."
"My nephew is seven. When I ask him to go shovel some snow with me, I know it means I'm going to shovel snow and he's going to build tunnels and make snow angels."
"Maybe."
"It makes him think he's helping. It lets him know I think he's important."
"In my family... on the MacDougal side... there's a history of heart problems."
"Yes, I know."
"Dad was shoveling the car and had started clearing the walk. I -" She had to stop.
"Cricket... listen. I know that you know, intellectually, that it wasn't your fault."
"I know."
"Well, you need to start believing it. Look at this." He rummaged through the folder and pulled out a piece of paper. "Recognize this? This is an incident report from when you were in fifth grade. Dean Fagan made fun of your freckles the day of another blizzard and you pummelled the crap out of him. And over here," he went on, pulling something much more official looking out, "is an arrest report. Do you remember this? You were arrested a few weeks beore you joined up. Do you want to tell me why?"
Tears were beginning to pool in Mary's eyes. "Tom Coelho."
"Tom Coelho. Again, he made a stupid, insensitive comment that you killed your entire family, and you almost broke his jaw. Your brother was able to talk to his family and no charges were pressed." He flipped though the file. "I look at this file and do you know what I see? Someone who's just too good to be true, with the exception of about half a dozen incidents like this. You've made the best out of a very unusual situation. You were raised by your brother and sister-in-law. Your grades are, on the whole, pretty good. You've never smoked anything in your life; you've been drunk exactly one time, didn't like it, and have barely touched alcohol since; you're absurdly friendly, very outgoing, hopelessly incompetent around boys to the point of never having been on a real date -"
"Wait! What about Timmy Sammarco?"
"Despite what you told your friends, that was not a date. Timmy Sammarco works with your brother and he was taking you to see "The Nutcracker" because Liz had to work and Jack would rather eat bees than go to the ballet."
"It was kind of a date."
"You were fourteen. Timmy was twenty-eight and already married. It was certainly not a date. And look at all of this. You can play the accordion, which I'm afraid is bound to become public knowledge around here sooner or later. One extremely fun night aside, you are a world-class, Olympic-caliber archer. Hell, you taught the upstairs neighbor's kid to read, for the love of God. Stop punishing yourself for something you had no control over."
Looking very, very small, Mary said, "But... "
"No buts. Mary Rosen MacDougal died because she was thirty-nine years old, not in great health, and her body just couldn't handle giving birth again. William MacDougal died because he had a heart attack - which was his second, incidentally - due to a genetic, hereditary predisposition to them. You ran into the house and called 911. You did what you were supposed to do. There was nothing else you could have done to prevent it."
"I could've helped."
"You were helping. Seven-year-olds generally don't shovel a lot of snow." Doc took off his glasses and looked straight at Mary. "You didn't kill your parents, Mae. You have to stop hating yourself. You have to accept that you couldn't have done anything. And you DEFINITELY have to stop turning that anger outward, because I really don't want to have to recommend that you be discharged."
Mae, sniffling and snotting, nodded.
"We can talk about this some more next week, if you like."
"I would like that, if it's okay."
"Of course it is."
At that point, Hawk came wheeling into Doc's office, holding a cell phone. Cricket bolted to attention, gathering herself together.
"As you were, Cricket. I only came in here for a minute. Doc, I'm on hold with the Secretary of Defense. I'm gonna need that study we talked about earlier."
"Sure, Hawk. Let me just take care of Cricket first. Again, I'm gonna give you three days' worth. Okay?"
"What's that for?" Hawk asked. "Everything all right?"
"Of course, sir," replied Cricket, more formally than she needed to. "Doc's giving me some Senokot."
"Really? What's that for?"
It was a mixture of her frazzled nerves and her natural terror of General Hawk that made her blurt out "I can't poop, sir."
After a very short pause, Hawk said into the phone he was carrying, "No, Mr. Secretary, that was the new recruit I was just telling you about."
*****
"You know what you could do?" Courtney asked. "You could help me get dressed, then get me downstairs and back to work."
"I could?" Allie asked.
"Definitely. The Wolverine practically drives itself. I could just go tinker for a little while."
"Actually, that does sound good, because I was just thinking how great it would be to wake up tomorrow morning and not have a job."
"Alliiiiiiiiie -" Courtney whined.
"No. Your insides are all gooey. You're not moving. When do you take your medicine?"
"Not for another three hours."
"Well then, watch TV or something. Take your mind off it."
The door to the apartment swung open, and Mae entered. She looked tired, but she usually did lately.
"Hey kiddo," Allie called as Mae went into the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. "How'd it go?"
"Well, it was interesting." Mae plopped herself down on the couch next to Courtney and opened her YoJoe. To Courtney, she asked, "How are you feeling?"
"I'm fine. I want to go back to work."
"Okay. Touch your toes."
"What?"
"If you touch your toes, I will personally carry you back to the motor pool."
"Seriously?"
"Absolutely."
Courtney slowly inched forward, extended her hands, and grunted for three solid minutes as she failed to get her fingertips past her kneecaps.
"Courtney, stop," Mae said. "You're gonna hurt yourself again."
Courtney slowly reclined. She was wincing, and tears had formed in her eyes, but she smiled and said, "Definitely tomorrow."
Mae turned to Allie and said, "I can take over for you if you have somewhere to be."
"I don't need a babysitter."
Allie said "A, yes you do. B, I'm not on duty tonight, but Dash is, so I don't really have much going on. And C... well, let's just say 'yes, you do' again."
Mae stretched, groaning as she did so. "I'm sooooo tired. I haven't done my archery drills in three days. I really should, but I don't wanna move."
"You're still off tomorrow, though, right?" Courtney asked.
"Yeah."
"Fuck it. Do it then. You'll have all day before Roadblock's thing."
"Sounds good to me," Mae replied, drinking her soda and letting her attention fall to the TV. "Holy God!" she said.
"What?" asked Courtney.
"Your feet are in the way of the TV. They're enormous."
"What?"
"I never noticed before."
"Well, I'm five eleven. They have to be a certain size or I'll keep falling down."
"Yeah, but that's not normal."
"There's nothing wrong with my feet!"
"Did your mom directly handle radium when she was pregnant with you?"
"Yeah? Well... you're... um... short."
"And with that, I bask in my victory."
"Oh, I'm too tired and in too much pain to deal with you right now."
"I'm getting up. Do you need anything?"
"If you could get the blue pillow off my bed I'd appreciate it."
"Got it. Allie?"
"I'm all set."
As Mae got off the couch, Shana, still in her uniform, let herself into the apartment.
"Do you know what I just realized?" she asked, eyes wide.
"Here it comes," said Allie.
"What did you realize?" Courtney asked.
Shana seemed to let the thought roll around in her mind for a moment before answering. "I'm going to be thirty tomorrow."
Allie looked at her watch. "Five forty-three. I have to go call Ace."
"Ace? Why do you need to call Ace?" Shana asked.
"To see if I won the 'Scarlett begins freaking out when she realizes her twenties are over' pool." She began dialing.
Frantic, Shana exclaimed, "My twenties are over!"
Someone answered the phone. "Armbruster."
"Ace? It's Jaye. It's happening."
"Yeah? You got a time?"
"Five forty-three."
"I will never be married!" Shana cried. "I could've had my family started..."
"Yeah, I think we can officially call the pool closed," Ace said. "Hang on, I'm gonna grab the board."
"My dad should be a grandpa by now!"
Covering the phone, Allie said, "Your dad *is* a grandpa. Your brother Frank's boy, remember?"
"What? That doesn't count! That kid's practically got two heads!"
"Okay, I'm back," said Ace. "Okay, let's see... nope, sorry, Jaye. If she had held out for twelve more minutes you'd have won."
"Damn. Who did win?"
"You ready for this? Duke."
"Are you serious?" Allie laughed.
"Yep. That should make things more interesting."
"All right. Well, thanks, Ace."
"No, thank *you*. I'll see you tomorrow?"
"I'll be there. 'Night." She hung up.
"Do you know," said Courtney, "I think you should think back to when I turned thirty. I belive I handled it with a great deal of grace and decorum, and that you could learn something from the example I set."
"Yes, I remember when you turned thirty," Shana replied. "You cried for three solid days and walked around the base in your private school uniform. Which, incidentally, did not fit you anymore."
"But I walked *gracefully*."
"Wow. You guys are old," said Allie.
"You know, you're gonna be here someday, too."
"Yeah, in six years. I'm thinking of having my head frozen until they can find a cure for it."
"I know I need to calm down," said Shana, "Because that actually sounded like a workable plan just now. I'm gonna go freshen up. Be right back." She headed down the hall.
As Allie continued to make old jokes at Courtney, Mae followed Shana to the bathroom door. Knocking gently, she asked, "Shana? Are you busy?"
"Uh... kinda. Do you need to get in here? I'll just be a minute."
"No, no, it's nothing like that. Believe me, I wish it was. I can wait."
"I'm done. Hang on." Mae heard the door unlock as the water ran. As she stepped inside, Shana was washing her hands. "What's up? she asked.
"Sorry to rush you. It's just that this is the only room in the apartment with any real privacy."
"Mine's the same way. I understand. Something on your mind?"
"Just a little bit. I was talking to Doc today."
"Everything all right?"
"Yeah, for the most part. He showed me my file."
Shana turned. "He did? Really?"
"Well, he didn't let me sit down and read it or anything. He just showed me a couple of pages." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "I didn't realize there was so much background on me. I'm only eighteen."
"Sure. We have to be pretty thourough."
"He didn't tell me who compiled it, you know."
"He's not supposed to."
"I mean, I assume it would be someone in Intelligence."
"That would make the most amount of sense."
Mae took a deep breath. "Shana, I know I haven't been here very long, and I also know don't really know you that well, but what you think of me is very important to me, and I want you to know that I Was talking to Doc about my parents and I know that I didn't kill them, but... I'm going to start trying to believe it."
Shana looked at Mae a long time. Then she took Mae in her arms, rocking her gently as she began to cry softly. "You're going to let Doc help you?" she asked.
"Yes."
"And if he decides it's necessary, you'll let him find someone else who can help you?"
"Yes." She sniffed. "I'm sorry. You must have thought I was completely insane."
"Of course not. You were just a little kid. It's just time you got over this, that's all." She kissed Mae's forehead gently, the way her father used to kiss hers. Then she smiled and said, "That's not me saying I wrote your dossier, by the way."
Mae laughed. "Of course not."