Part 5: Return of a Warrior
When they all got back from the hospital they all sat outside. It was only six o'clock so it was still bright and warm and Jack was glad for it after being stuck inside for the last 24 hours. They were sitting on the grass drinking juice and talking. Jack hadn't taken long to break into his chocolate and was now sharing out a bar between the six of them.
"I still say 'The Fifth Element' is better, Dawson!"
"Pacey, of the two of us, which is the film buff?"
"Okay, you! But how is '2001 A Space Odyssey' even comparable? I mean that's like three hours of my life I'm never seeing again! Okay I probably wouldn't have done much with them but I'd still prefer to have them back!"
"But '2001' is a classic, 'Fifth Element' is nothing more than yet another telling of the same save-the-world story with its own little twists."
Okay, Jack thought, so not so much talking as arguing!
"But it's those twists that make such a great movie! I mean, come on, Lei- Lou, she was hot!"
"O great... now we've got hormones involved," said Joey, "Now I really can't see this being settled by logic!"
"And it because of this very testosterone poisoning display right in the middle of the video store," Jen said glaring at the two boys, "that I rented neither movie!"
"What did you get?"
"Considering that this is meant to be a 'welcome home Jack' evening –"
"Not that I was gone that long"
"- I got something that he'd appreciate."
"I take it back, celebrate my return!"
Jen handed the video over. It was a copy of 'Notting Hill'.
Noticing the looks in the other two boys' eyes Jack looked slightly sheepish
"Well, I like it. But we can watch something else if you like, I don't mind."
"Would you like to watch 'Moby Dick' again?" Jen asked
"'Notting Hill' it is then!" said Pacey grabbing the video from Jack. "Quick lets go before Dawson offers to find the video!"
"Funny, Pacey!" said Dawson, getting up.
"I try!"
As they approached the house they could see Doug Witter knocking on the front door. He turned as he heard them coming up behind him. "Jack, I was wondering if we could have a talk about what happened yesterday."
"Umm... sure." He turned to his friends "Sorry guys but I'll call you when we're done and you can come over and we'll watch the movie then."
"Don't worry Jack," Dawson said. "My parents are at the restaurant till late so we'll go to mine and you just join us when you're all finished."
"Thanks, see ya later then."
*****
"Maybe you can start by telling me what happened, Jack. What do you remember from yesterday?"
Jack looked up from his glass of water, straight into Doug's face.
"Everything, it's so vivid. I can't help but remember it all, but I'd rather forget it." He smiled rather pathetically, "It's only been one day but it feels longer than that."
"I know. And I know you'd rather forget it, Jack, but I need you to tell me what happened."
Jack nodded as he stared once more at his hands wrapped tightly round the glass. Then he watched Doug's pen scratching along the notepad, he tried to read what he was writing as Jack had to relive once more the events of the previous afternoon. He wanted Doug to get everything down so he didn't have to do this again.
He told him everything, he didn't miss a single detail, he felt sick to the stomach as the telling of it made the memory even more vivid in his mind. It hit him, this had happened. It had happened to him. It was real. He hadn't read it or dreamt it or been told it by someone else.
The further he got in the story the tighter the knot in his stomach got. His knuckles were white from gripping the glass so hard. His hand on the worktop was shaking now. He pulled it away and hid it in his lap.
"Do you want to stop, Jack? Do you want me to call someone to be here with you?"
He shook his head, "I just want to get this over with."
"You sure?"
Jack nodded. He finished his water, but he didn't let go of the glass, and continued the story. When he said about the laughter, Doug had asked if he'd recognised the voice. Jack had told him about that morning, when he'd heard it but, no, he didn't know who it was. And so they continued, Jack talking and Doug making notes from what was said, until Jack had finished.
Now Doug knew everything that had happened that day, both in the morning and in the afternoon, in the locker room.
"I'm going to have to take that envelope and the photos as evidence, Jack. Do you have them with you?"
Jack shook his head, "Jen has them."
"Jen?"
"She took them, she got me to tell her everything."
Doug looked up at Jack and saw a single tear start to roll down his left cheek. Jack wiped it away with the back of his hand. Doug again checked if Jack was okay, and Jack again said he was.
"Well, I have to ask you to get them back for me. If it helps I can do it for you."
"No, its okay, I'll do it."
Doug had to admit, he was impressed; he didn't know many people strong enough and brave enough to keep it together as well as Jack was doing. But in the end it was because he was building walls, which is very rarely an entirely good thing.
Then Doug asked if there was anything else that had happened that day that seemed important or in any way relevant.
And Jack made a connection. A connection between what had happened in the locker room and to something else that had happened that day. He looked straight at Doug, right in the eyes for the fist time that evening. And Doug saw the look of surprise and worry in Jack's own eyes.
"I... I..."
"Yes, Jack?"
"I think I know who did it!"
Doug seemed surprised as well. He put down the pen on top of the notepad and looked Jack in the eyes. "Go on."
"There was a guy when we were all rehearsing for the play, I think his name's Stuart or Steven or something like that. He was heckling me on stage. He just a big pain, but he always mouths off at me and threatens about doing something like this. Yet another homophobic idiot matriculating at Capeside High."
"But why do you think it was this guy in particular?"
"He's on the baseball team, and it most certainly felt like whoever swung that bat knew what they were doing!" Jack resisted the urge to rub his head.
"Well, we'll certainly look in to it. That definitely merits further investigation! Is there anything else you wanted to add?"
Jack shook his head.
"Well then, I guess we're done then. I'll get back to you as soon as we find anything or if I need to ask you anymore questions. I'll drop you off at Dawson's now, if you like."
"Thanks, Doug."
As soon as he'd waved goodbye to Doug from the Leery's porch and the police car had driven out of sight, Jack gave a sigh of relief. He turned round and knocked on the door. He planned to enjoy himself tonight. Dawson let him in and, after a few questions, they all watched the movie. Jack's plan worked, he had a great time and not once thought about his experience from the previous day.
*****
That night he had the dream again. The bridge, the brook, the singing, the shadowy figure and then the baseball bat had been swung to his temple and he'd collapsed right there on that bridge.
The dream had woken him up with a start, and so he'd gone downstairs for a glass of water. He was sitting in the kitchen drinking when Andie walked in.
"Sorry, did I wake you?"
"Maybe, all I know is that I'm awake now! Did you have a bad dream?"
"One of many!"
"Patronising as it might seem but are you gonna be alright?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Okay then." Andie filled herself a glass of water and went back upstairs.
Jack finished his water and rinsed out the glass in the sink and left it on the drainer to dry.
Then he returned to his room and to sleep, which was, gladly, dreamless.
*****
When he woke up the next morning he could hear that Andie was already wandering round the kitchen. So he got dressed and went down to join her.
"Morning," he said. Then he yawned as he sat down.
"Good morning," she replied brightly. Smiling as he scratched his head and then rubbed his ear. "You look in desperate need of caffeine!"
"Thank you."
She poured him a cup from the pot she'd just brewed. A few minutes later the coffee had worked its magic and Jack was awake and alert.
"So, did you have that dream again?"
"Thankfully, no."
"What's so bad about it?"
"Well its abstract, even as dreams go! I don't know that its about anything in particular, other than its most definitely like an action replay of the other afternoon in my brain and I wish I could change the channel!" He paused thoughtfully and then continued, "And I took that analogy too far, didn't I?"
"Just a little!" she smiled at him again. "But don't worry, trite as it sounds, its only a dream."
Jack smiled back, "You're right... that does sound trite! But, yeah, thanks."
He got himself a bowl of his morning cereal, (Jen and Andie still didn't see the need for three cereals, no matter how hard he tried to explain they just didn't get it), and poured out the last of the bottle of milk over the top. As he ate the bowl of 'Count Chocula' with one hand he wrote out a post it with the other: 'more Jack milk'.
A half hour later Jack and Andie picked up their books and bags and left the house and once again the six friends met and made their way to school together.
*****
Once again they made it to school early and so were out on the grass in front of the school listening to music. This morning's DJ was Dawson, and Four Star Mary was currently doing the whirling dervish in the Discman. The feedback at the beginning of 'Pain' started up when Jack looked over at Jen and noticed her vacant look.
As he looked round, following Jen's gaze, he saw a guy standing talking with a group of his friends. Jack recognised him from the auditions for the school play. He was tall and fairly slim. But Jack could tell he kept in shape from his biceps clearly visible trough the charcoal long-sleeved T- shirt he was wearing. He also wore a pair of faded jeans and dark blue sneakers. He had his brown hair in a stylishly messy style with blond streaks here and there. He smiled, he had dimples. Jack didn't blame Jen for staring.
Jack waved his hand in front of Jen's eyes. "Penny for you thoughts."
"These thoughts are private."
"Okay would you mind telling us a little about the object of these private thoughts then?" Jack asked, motioning with his head in the direction of the guy.
Jen looked like she wasn't going to play along but then gave in, "Joshua Anderson, just signed up for the baseball team, 3-point-2 GPA and single. He just transferred from Hemery High in Los Angeles because of his father's job."
"Okay Jen, when did you become psychic?"
"I didn't but Grams met his mother at church during the summer vacation and they took the trouble to introduce us so he'd have at least one friend. But it doesn't look like his had that much trouble making friends!"
Jack looked back to see Joshua walking into the building.
"Well, what do you think?" Jen asked.
"He's okay."
"Okay meaning...?"
"I guess some people would call him attractive."
Jen glared at him.
"Okay, if they had eyes!" Jack gave in.
"If you say so, Jack, I'll take your word for it!" Pacey joked. The others all laughed.
Nothing else was said about Joshua, the friends went back to listening to the CD, talking amongst themselves as the chorus started up:
"I'm in pain, I can't sleep. I'm in pain, I can't sleep...."
Dawson had an ironic taste in music that morning. Jack wished he'd picked a different CD.
******
When the bell went for homeroom Jack went to the bathroom first. When he stood washing his hands he stared in the mirror, he turned his head and looked out of the corner of his eyes to see the stitches in his head. He dried his hands and reached into his bag, he pulled out his new NYC cap and put it on, taking care not to disturb those ugly stitches on his head.
Then he went to homeroom. He was surprised that he still managed to get there before Mr. Ames but he sat down next to Dawson. As he placed his bag on the desk in front of him Mr. Ames walked in.
"The wounded soldier returns!" He said as he noticed Jack back in his classroom. He was the only one to laugh at his joke. Recovering from his poor attempt at humour the teacher tried to keep going as though it hadn't completely bombed, "You've become quite famous in a very short time Mr. McPhee!"
"Er... Thank you?"
The drama teacher smiled, "That was an observation not a compliment. Oh, and Jack... no baseball caps in my classroom please!"
Jack obediently, but grudgingly, removed his gift and placed it back in his bag. There followed a series of whistles, "ouch"s and sharp breaths from behind him as the members of the class seated behind him saw the stitches he'd tried to hide.
He ignored them as best he could. He stared out of the window... and he drifted off...
******
All of a sudden he wasn't sitting in the classroom, instead he was standing on the wooden bridge once more. It wasn't just like falling asleep; it was like without warning he was transported somewhere else. It was a feeling he was starting to associate with the dream and it was how he knew this wasn't simply any dream. There was something different about it. It was more... tactile, somehow.
The singing once more flooded round him. It wasn't like just a song over a sound system; it was like there was someone next to him on the bridge singing. Not to him, because if they were singing to him he'd be able to see them for one thing. Let alone be able to make out the words.
Everything played over again, like he was trapped, doomed to live this twisted memory over and over in his unconscious for all time. He wouldn't have minded if it stayed the same as the start, it was nice there. The laughter of children playing, the singing, the light and warmth. But then the boy tripped, went inside and the light and warmth went. He was left in the dark and cold. He turned to face his fate. He watched the figure.
Then he made a choice.
He smiled as he looked up at the figure. He was going to do this on his terms. He turned and he sprinted off the bridge. He raced over the green turf under his feet. He ran until he thought he'd put sufficient distance between himself and the bridge to think of a plan. Then he looked around.
Nothing had changed, he was back on the bridge, figure in front of him, handrail pressed up against his back the ominous trees loomed up in the background.
It was all the same as before. Jack hung his head in defeat. He was sent flying...
To Be Continued...
When they all got back from the hospital they all sat outside. It was only six o'clock so it was still bright and warm and Jack was glad for it after being stuck inside for the last 24 hours. They were sitting on the grass drinking juice and talking. Jack hadn't taken long to break into his chocolate and was now sharing out a bar between the six of them.
"I still say 'The Fifth Element' is better, Dawson!"
"Pacey, of the two of us, which is the film buff?"
"Okay, you! But how is '2001 A Space Odyssey' even comparable? I mean that's like three hours of my life I'm never seeing again! Okay I probably wouldn't have done much with them but I'd still prefer to have them back!"
"But '2001' is a classic, 'Fifth Element' is nothing more than yet another telling of the same save-the-world story with its own little twists."
Okay, Jack thought, so not so much talking as arguing!
"But it's those twists that make such a great movie! I mean, come on, Lei- Lou, she was hot!"
"O great... now we've got hormones involved," said Joey, "Now I really can't see this being settled by logic!"
"And it because of this very testosterone poisoning display right in the middle of the video store," Jen said glaring at the two boys, "that I rented neither movie!"
"What did you get?"
"Considering that this is meant to be a 'welcome home Jack' evening –"
"Not that I was gone that long"
"- I got something that he'd appreciate."
"I take it back, celebrate my return!"
Jen handed the video over. It was a copy of 'Notting Hill'.
Noticing the looks in the other two boys' eyes Jack looked slightly sheepish
"Well, I like it. But we can watch something else if you like, I don't mind."
"Would you like to watch 'Moby Dick' again?" Jen asked
"'Notting Hill' it is then!" said Pacey grabbing the video from Jack. "Quick lets go before Dawson offers to find the video!"
"Funny, Pacey!" said Dawson, getting up.
"I try!"
As they approached the house they could see Doug Witter knocking on the front door. He turned as he heard them coming up behind him. "Jack, I was wondering if we could have a talk about what happened yesterday."
"Umm... sure." He turned to his friends "Sorry guys but I'll call you when we're done and you can come over and we'll watch the movie then."
"Don't worry Jack," Dawson said. "My parents are at the restaurant till late so we'll go to mine and you just join us when you're all finished."
"Thanks, see ya later then."
*****
"Maybe you can start by telling me what happened, Jack. What do you remember from yesterday?"
Jack looked up from his glass of water, straight into Doug's face.
"Everything, it's so vivid. I can't help but remember it all, but I'd rather forget it." He smiled rather pathetically, "It's only been one day but it feels longer than that."
"I know. And I know you'd rather forget it, Jack, but I need you to tell me what happened."
Jack nodded as he stared once more at his hands wrapped tightly round the glass. Then he watched Doug's pen scratching along the notepad, he tried to read what he was writing as Jack had to relive once more the events of the previous afternoon. He wanted Doug to get everything down so he didn't have to do this again.
He told him everything, he didn't miss a single detail, he felt sick to the stomach as the telling of it made the memory even more vivid in his mind. It hit him, this had happened. It had happened to him. It was real. He hadn't read it or dreamt it or been told it by someone else.
The further he got in the story the tighter the knot in his stomach got. His knuckles were white from gripping the glass so hard. His hand on the worktop was shaking now. He pulled it away and hid it in his lap.
"Do you want to stop, Jack? Do you want me to call someone to be here with you?"
He shook his head, "I just want to get this over with."
"You sure?"
Jack nodded. He finished his water, but he didn't let go of the glass, and continued the story. When he said about the laughter, Doug had asked if he'd recognised the voice. Jack had told him about that morning, when he'd heard it but, no, he didn't know who it was. And so they continued, Jack talking and Doug making notes from what was said, until Jack had finished.
Now Doug knew everything that had happened that day, both in the morning and in the afternoon, in the locker room.
"I'm going to have to take that envelope and the photos as evidence, Jack. Do you have them with you?"
Jack shook his head, "Jen has them."
"Jen?"
"She took them, she got me to tell her everything."
Doug looked up at Jack and saw a single tear start to roll down his left cheek. Jack wiped it away with the back of his hand. Doug again checked if Jack was okay, and Jack again said he was.
"Well, I have to ask you to get them back for me. If it helps I can do it for you."
"No, its okay, I'll do it."
Doug had to admit, he was impressed; he didn't know many people strong enough and brave enough to keep it together as well as Jack was doing. But in the end it was because he was building walls, which is very rarely an entirely good thing.
Then Doug asked if there was anything else that had happened that day that seemed important or in any way relevant.
And Jack made a connection. A connection between what had happened in the locker room and to something else that had happened that day. He looked straight at Doug, right in the eyes for the fist time that evening. And Doug saw the look of surprise and worry in Jack's own eyes.
"I... I..."
"Yes, Jack?"
"I think I know who did it!"
Doug seemed surprised as well. He put down the pen on top of the notepad and looked Jack in the eyes. "Go on."
"There was a guy when we were all rehearsing for the play, I think his name's Stuart or Steven or something like that. He was heckling me on stage. He just a big pain, but he always mouths off at me and threatens about doing something like this. Yet another homophobic idiot matriculating at Capeside High."
"But why do you think it was this guy in particular?"
"He's on the baseball team, and it most certainly felt like whoever swung that bat knew what they were doing!" Jack resisted the urge to rub his head.
"Well, we'll certainly look in to it. That definitely merits further investigation! Is there anything else you wanted to add?"
Jack shook his head.
"Well then, I guess we're done then. I'll get back to you as soon as we find anything or if I need to ask you anymore questions. I'll drop you off at Dawson's now, if you like."
"Thanks, Doug."
As soon as he'd waved goodbye to Doug from the Leery's porch and the police car had driven out of sight, Jack gave a sigh of relief. He turned round and knocked on the door. He planned to enjoy himself tonight. Dawson let him in and, after a few questions, they all watched the movie. Jack's plan worked, he had a great time and not once thought about his experience from the previous day.
*****
That night he had the dream again. The bridge, the brook, the singing, the shadowy figure and then the baseball bat had been swung to his temple and he'd collapsed right there on that bridge.
The dream had woken him up with a start, and so he'd gone downstairs for a glass of water. He was sitting in the kitchen drinking when Andie walked in.
"Sorry, did I wake you?"
"Maybe, all I know is that I'm awake now! Did you have a bad dream?"
"One of many!"
"Patronising as it might seem but are you gonna be alright?"
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
"Okay then." Andie filled herself a glass of water and went back upstairs.
Jack finished his water and rinsed out the glass in the sink and left it on the drainer to dry.
Then he returned to his room and to sleep, which was, gladly, dreamless.
*****
When he woke up the next morning he could hear that Andie was already wandering round the kitchen. So he got dressed and went down to join her.
"Morning," he said. Then he yawned as he sat down.
"Good morning," she replied brightly. Smiling as he scratched his head and then rubbed his ear. "You look in desperate need of caffeine!"
"Thank you."
She poured him a cup from the pot she'd just brewed. A few minutes later the coffee had worked its magic and Jack was awake and alert.
"So, did you have that dream again?"
"Thankfully, no."
"What's so bad about it?"
"Well its abstract, even as dreams go! I don't know that its about anything in particular, other than its most definitely like an action replay of the other afternoon in my brain and I wish I could change the channel!" He paused thoughtfully and then continued, "And I took that analogy too far, didn't I?"
"Just a little!" she smiled at him again. "But don't worry, trite as it sounds, its only a dream."
Jack smiled back, "You're right... that does sound trite! But, yeah, thanks."
He got himself a bowl of his morning cereal, (Jen and Andie still didn't see the need for three cereals, no matter how hard he tried to explain they just didn't get it), and poured out the last of the bottle of milk over the top. As he ate the bowl of 'Count Chocula' with one hand he wrote out a post it with the other: 'more Jack milk'.
A half hour later Jack and Andie picked up their books and bags and left the house and once again the six friends met and made their way to school together.
*****
Once again they made it to school early and so were out on the grass in front of the school listening to music. This morning's DJ was Dawson, and Four Star Mary was currently doing the whirling dervish in the Discman. The feedback at the beginning of 'Pain' started up when Jack looked over at Jen and noticed her vacant look.
As he looked round, following Jen's gaze, he saw a guy standing talking with a group of his friends. Jack recognised him from the auditions for the school play. He was tall and fairly slim. But Jack could tell he kept in shape from his biceps clearly visible trough the charcoal long-sleeved T- shirt he was wearing. He also wore a pair of faded jeans and dark blue sneakers. He had his brown hair in a stylishly messy style with blond streaks here and there. He smiled, he had dimples. Jack didn't blame Jen for staring.
Jack waved his hand in front of Jen's eyes. "Penny for you thoughts."
"These thoughts are private."
"Okay would you mind telling us a little about the object of these private thoughts then?" Jack asked, motioning with his head in the direction of the guy.
Jen looked like she wasn't going to play along but then gave in, "Joshua Anderson, just signed up for the baseball team, 3-point-2 GPA and single. He just transferred from Hemery High in Los Angeles because of his father's job."
"Okay Jen, when did you become psychic?"
"I didn't but Grams met his mother at church during the summer vacation and they took the trouble to introduce us so he'd have at least one friend. But it doesn't look like his had that much trouble making friends!"
Jack looked back to see Joshua walking into the building.
"Well, what do you think?" Jen asked.
"He's okay."
"Okay meaning...?"
"I guess some people would call him attractive."
Jen glared at him.
"Okay, if they had eyes!" Jack gave in.
"If you say so, Jack, I'll take your word for it!" Pacey joked. The others all laughed.
Nothing else was said about Joshua, the friends went back to listening to the CD, talking amongst themselves as the chorus started up:
"I'm in pain, I can't sleep. I'm in pain, I can't sleep...."
Dawson had an ironic taste in music that morning. Jack wished he'd picked a different CD.
******
When the bell went for homeroom Jack went to the bathroom first. When he stood washing his hands he stared in the mirror, he turned his head and looked out of the corner of his eyes to see the stitches in his head. He dried his hands and reached into his bag, he pulled out his new NYC cap and put it on, taking care not to disturb those ugly stitches on his head.
Then he went to homeroom. He was surprised that he still managed to get there before Mr. Ames but he sat down next to Dawson. As he placed his bag on the desk in front of him Mr. Ames walked in.
"The wounded soldier returns!" He said as he noticed Jack back in his classroom. He was the only one to laugh at his joke. Recovering from his poor attempt at humour the teacher tried to keep going as though it hadn't completely bombed, "You've become quite famous in a very short time Mr. McPhee!"
"Er... Thank you?"
The drama teacher smiled, "That was an observation not a compliment. Oh, and Jack... no baseball caps in my classroom please!"
Jack obediently, but grudgingly, removed his gift and placed it back in his bag. There followed a series of whistles, "ouch"s and sharp breaths from behind him as the members of the class seated behind him saw the stitches he'd tried to hide.
He ignored them as best he could. He stared out of the window... and he drifted off...
******
All of a sudden he wasn't sitting in the classroom, instead he was standing on the wooden bridge once more. It wasn't just like falling asleep; it was like without warning he was transported somewhere else. It was a feeling he was starting to associate with the dream and it was how he knew this wasn't simply any dream. There was something different about it. It was more... tactile, somehow.
The singing once more flooded round him. It wasn't like just a song over a sound system; it was like there was someone next to him on the bridge singing. Not to him, because if they were singing to him he'd be able to see them for one thing. Let alone be able to make out the words.
Everything played over again, like he was trapped, doomed to live this twisted memory over and over in his unconscious for all time. He wouldn't have minded if it stayed the same as the start, it was nice there. The laughter of children playing, the singing, the light and warmth. But then the boy tripped, went inside and the light and warmth went. He was left in the dark and cold. He turned to face his fate. He watched the figure.
Then he made a choice.
He smiled as he looked up at the figure. He was going to do this on his terms. He turned and he sprinted off the bridge. He raced over the green turf under his feet. He ran until he thought he'd put sufficient distance between himself and the bridge to think of a plan. Then he looked around.
Nothing had changed, he was back on the bridge, figure in front of him, handrail pressed up against his back the ominous trees loomed up in the background.
It was all the same as before. Jack hung his head in defeat. He was sent flying...
To Be Continued...