A/N: Okay, chapter nine is finally here! Didn't take too long. Only a couple days. First off, to all those Vince fans, I'm sorry he's acting like such a bastard...don't worry, I think he may redeem himself...or maybe he'll just die. I don't know.
To my reviewers, xXxSarahxXx, TheNextPoliticalDynasty, and Momo-chan, thanks for the reviews on my last chapter, you guys rock!
TNPD: Your little brother? hm...I guess they can be protective too. You really like HK? It's too bad...I'm going to kill him off....bwahahahahahahahahaha...heh...heh...I'm just joking. I'd never ruin the story for you like that. I don't know who, if anyone, I'm going to kill off. I just wish I could have seen your face when you read that. Hehe...sorry.
I'm all choked up, people are starting to threaten me for updates. Oh...well...here's the update. Enjoy.
Chapter 9: Beloved Doubt
Spinelli and TJ had never really been inside of Kelso's late at night. They'd been outside of Kelso's late at night, they'd been in businesses near Kelso's late at night, but they'd never been inside of Kelso's late at night. It felt almost...wrong. They walked to the door, standing away from one another, and knocked on the glass. They could see Gus appear and unlock the door, letting them in. TJ looked over his shoulder at the street. There was no trace of the dead birds from earlier. Someone must have cleaned them up. It was pouring outside. They noticed two things when they walked into the small shop. The tables had been rearranged forming one big table with separate chairs for each of them, and Vince was there.
"Why's he here?" TJ demanded.
"I believed there was a pattern to these letters so I contacted Vincent and found that I was correct in my assumption that he had received a mysterious brown envelope as well," Gretchen explained snootily, pushing the glasses up on her nose and eyeing Spinelli. "Why is she here?"
"The letters concern me as much as you, Grundler," Spinelli spat before making her way to the table and sitting down, shooting Vince a dangerous look that TJ couldn't help but notice. There were five envelopes laid out now instead of the four. "Those them?"
"Yes," Gretchen said, straightening one of the letters and taking a seat across from Spinelli, in front of the envelopes.
"Did you find something out about these messages?" TJ demanded, "Or are we just here to know that Vince got one too?"
"Hey," Vince snapped, "I'm not too thrilled about being dragged out here, so don't start acting like I'm unwanted or unwelcome."
"And don't snap at me," Gretchen added, glowering at TJ. Mikey appeared from the back holding a milkshake.
"He's finally here," the large man muttered, "And he brought Spinelli with him. We won't be having another dramatic showdown will we?"
"So long as Grundler keeps her mouth shut, I don't think so, Mikey," Spinelli replied, eyes firmly watching the table, recalling the things Gretchen had said to her, which reminded her, "I should probably tell you guys, the Ashleys are all in town, and so's Frank...I mean...Francis."
"And I checked Menlo out, he still lives here. He works at Third Street as a secretary in the office," Gus said, puffing his chest out proudly at the information he'd gathered, "And you won't guess who else is back in town. Butch and Randall. Butch is a professor of urban legends, can you believe that? He's here researching a legend that he's traced back to our little town. And Randall works for the CIA or the FBI or the IRS...something like that. Who knows why he's here."
"That's almost all of us..." TJ mumbled, "Sam and Dave are all that's missing."
"You don't think that..." Vince started, but realized whom he was speaking to and turned away stubbornly. "Never mind."
"Spit it out, LaSalle, or you'll be spitting out teeth," Spinelli threatened.
"The Sam and Dave Excavation Company, in the city over?" Vince stated as though it were obvious, "Word is that the owners of the company are here investigating the prospect of branching out to this town."
"So we're all here," TJ said, "What does it mean?"
"It's probably just coincidence," Gretchen told them, "There's nothing to really worry about. Right?" No one said anything. "Look, we came here about these letters. Let's talk about them, shall we?"
"What did you find out, Gretch?" Gus asked.
"I want to know what Vince's says first," TJ spoke up.
"What's it to you?" Vince barked.
"There's no reason to not tell him what yours says," Mikey interceded, as he always had when they were still the old gang, "It is all a piece to this puzzle."
"Fine, 'Vince is going to lose the game', happy now?" Vince spat.
"What's that supposed to mean? What game?" Spinelli wondered aloud.
"If I knew that, I wouldn't be here," Vince replied sharply, "Gretchen, what did you find out about the letter, already?"
"You're not going to believe this," Gretchen started, "But from what I can figure, the letters were written by...well...us. As far as I can tell, we wrote ourselves the letters."
"Us?" Spinelli questioned, "I don't remember writing myself that stupid message."
"It doesn't even look like her handwriting," TJ put in. Spinelli glanced at him from the corner of her eye, not sure if she should talk to him. They hadn't spoken on the car ride over. She wasn't sure where she stood with him at the moment.
"That's the thing. They appear to have been written by us...fifteen years ago," Gretchen explained haughtily, "I acquired samples of each of our handwriting from the fourth and fifth grade. I do have every document catalogued in my attic. I ran an analysis and they appear to be exact matches, even going so far as the random calculation for human imperfection."
"Could someone have copied our handwriting?" Gus asked.
"I considered that theory to no avail," Gretchen retorted, "The person would, not only have to be a skilled and extremely talented forgery expert, but ambidextrous as well."
"Couldn't it be possible that there's more than one person writing these letters?" Gus persisted.
"No, do you know how difficult it would be to find one person capable of such a feat in the first place?" Gretchen snapped, "The only logical conclusion that can be drawn is that at some point in our youth we wrote these letters to ourselves and perhaps blocked the memory from our minds or were forced to forget through some form of hypnosis, better referred to as brain wash."
"Yeah, that's logical," Vince chuckled malignantly.
"Are you certain that they're not copies of something we've written before?" TJ inquired, "I mean like a cut, paste, scan, touch up, and print job? It wouldn't be that hard."
"No, this is actual crayon markings and the flow of the letters suggests that they were not pasted together from different samples of writings, that they were actually written in one sitting."
"What do you think about them, Gretchen, the actual messages I mean? What's your professional opinion?" TJ asked.
"Well...these four appear to be more of predictions. Fortunes in a sense."
"Like fortune cookies without the cookie?" Mikey interrupted.
"Um...yeah, sort of," Gretchen replied, raising an eyebrow at him. "However, the one that Spinelli received appears to be more of a threat than anything else."
"Maybe because threats are all she understands," Vince scoffed, looking at Spinelli expectantly. She lowered her eyes, studying the table and sneaking a peak at TJ, which seemed to arouse disgust in Vince.
"Or perhaps because she herself wrote it, being the aggressive person she is," Gretchen pointed out, "It better suits her personality."
"I think we should stick with a third party writer of the letters, seeing as how none of us recall writing these letters," TJ suggested.
"Well that's not for you to decide, is it?" Vince spat, "No one put you in charge."
"I'm not saying I am in charge," TJ sneered, "I'm just saying that maybe we shouldn't jump to an improbable conclusion."
"Will you two stop it!" Gus cried, "All you guys do when you're together is fight. Vince, stop jumping down TJ's throat, he's right. We shouldn't jump to any conclusions. TJ, stop-goading Vince on. Didn't anyone ever teach you to walk away from a fight?"
"Well, he is dating Spinelli," Vince put in snidely. There was a noticeable wince shared between TJ and Spinelli. The others looked between the two, Spinelli sitting silently across the room staring moodily at the table, TJ standing away from her running his hand nervously through his hair, both avoiding eye contact. Vince smirked, "Lovers' quarrel?"
"Our relationship is none of your goddamned business," TJ hissed.
"What relationship?" Spinelli said, her voice a bit shaky, "I mean...you did break up with me right?"
"Can we not do this right now, Spinelli?" TJ sighed, brushing his hand through his hair again. She slammed her fists against the table, pushing herself out of the chair and turning to face him.
"Well, it just hit me, so yeah, I think we should do this now," she said, trying to control the unsteady quiver in her tone.
"Spin..." There came a thunderclap in the distance, and the lights went off. Cries of confusion filled the room as the gang stumbled about, trying to find the light switch, or a source of light.
"Must be a power failure," Gus said through the dark, finding one of the flashlights kept behind the counter in case of emergencies. "There should be candles in the back. Will someone go find them? I know there's an emergency generator somewhere in the back of the building, but I have to search. Gretchen...maybe you should come with me? I'm not sure if I know how to work a generator," Gus asked, and then added quietly, "And I don't want to go alone."
"I'll accompany you, Gus, but starting a generator really is a simple matter," Gretchen sighed, standing up from the table and sidling up beside Gus.
"I'll go look for the candles," Spinelli sighed.
"I'll come with you," Vince said quickly gaining a look of detest from Spinelli. She looked to TJ, but he was carefully studying the corner of the table. "It's best if we stick with someone, in small groups."
"Fine, whatever. I guess you can tag along," Spinelli spat, taking a flashlight from Gus's outstretched hand.
"They should be in a closet near the freezer. You know where the freezer is, correct?"
"Yeah," Spinelli told him before rounding the corner to the back, Vince close behind.
"I guess you and Mikey can just stay here," Gus said, handing another flashlight to TJ, who exchanged a miserable look with Mikey. It was easier with the whole gang in one room. Then the hate was distributed evenly. Now with just the two of them, they would have to direct all their hate at one another. Neither was looking forward to it. Gus seemed to read them at once, "Vince and Spinelli should be back shortly...and who knows, the power may just come back on."
"What are the chances of that?" TJ asked unhappily.
"Oh...pretty slim in a storm like this," Gus shrugged, noting how the wind and lightening had picked up outside. "Come on, Gretchen. I think there's a piece of tarp in the storage we can use to shield the rain. There's also has access to the back through there." The two walked off through a door behind the counter leaving Mikey and TJ alone.
For what seemed an eternity, they were silent, ignoring one another. Finally, TJ sighed, glancing at Mikey who was sitting at a barstool.
"Where've you been?" TJ asked politely, "I mean, what have you done with your life." For a moment, Mikey looked as though he were considering whether he should answer or continue ignoring TJ. Finally he spoke.
"I have been traveling with a Broadway troupe performing the newest musical, 'The Reveling'. We've come to rest now at a small theatre in New York where we perform nightly," Mikey replied with an uppity sneer. He glanced at the wall, his nose stuck up in the air, "And you?"
"You've been living in New York too?" TJ gaped, "Spinelli and me share an apartment there...she's attending an art academy. I've been writing for a magazine."
"I never would have taken you as a writer, Theodore," Mikey said, offset from his loathe.
"I never would have either," TJ replied sheepishly, shrugging, "It's not what I wanted to do with my life. But after...well...after what happened, I kind of lost my nerve...to do things..." Mikey turned away at the mention of what happened. It reminded him that he was supposed to hate TJ, not feel sorry for him.
"What happened...humph..."
"I don't understand you, Mikey. I always thought that you...that you would be a guiding light through something like that," TJ muttered, "But you turned on all of us. You didn't prove yourself to be the person I thought you were."
"I'm not like you," Mikey snapped.
"You're right, you're not. You never were," TJ hollered, "Maybe I'm just mad because of Spinelli, or maybe I really am just mad because of you, but it doesn't matter. We all acted wrong in that given scenario...but you? You acted as though you were better than us. Like the decisions that were made...the actions that were taken...had nothing to do with you. I got news for you, though, Mikey. You made those decisions, just like all of us. You were as much a part of what happened as any of us."
"TJ...if you think you deserve my..."
"I don't think I deserve anything from you, Mikey," TJ sighed, interrupting the large young man. Sadness unlike any Mikey had ever thought possible in the once confident and wide-eyed wonder known as TJ filled his eyes. It was as though he were that little boy again as he continued, "But them...Gretchen, Vince, Spinelli, and Gus, they needed you. They needed you to offer them some kind of comforting word, like always. But you weren't there for them. You blamed them when really...really...you should have just blamed me and kept them from becoming like this. You're not better than them; you're not better than any of them. Maybe back then I should have taken responsibility...but I was afraid. Maybe you could have convinced me to do that then and none of this would have happened. None of them would hate each other. I wouldn't have hurt Spinelli...maybe I wouldn't have ever had her...but I wouldn't have hurt her."
"I don't know what to say to that, TJ," Mikey stuttered, stunned.
"I'll let you off the hook then, Mikey," TJ said, standing up and stumbling to the corridor that led to the back of the store, "I'm gonna go see what's taking Vince and Spinelli so long."
-0-0-0-0-
The storm had really picked up outside, and there was only one piece of tarp. Gretchen and Gus were not in the mood to share.
"You can use it," Gus told her, handing it over.
"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction..." Gretchen started but caught the look in Gus's eye that practically said, "let's not have any bullshit alright." "Fine," Gretchen sighed, taking the green plastic sheet from Gus's grasp and wrapping it about herself. Gus led her through the storage unit, nothing more than a tiny room, more the size of a shed, filled with dusty objects. An old smoothie machine, an ancient soda fountain, moldy boxes, and even yellowed newspapers.
When Gus opened the door, the wind hit them with daggers of raindrops. They had to push their way to the outside, Gus holding the door open for Gretchen to force her way out.
"It should be somewhere along the wall," Gus shouted to her, but even though he screamed until his throat was sore, she still was barely able to hear him, the wind carrying away his words before they reached her ears.
"You go that way, Gus, and I'll go this way," Gretchen screamed her reply after finally figuring out what he was saying. Gus nodded, wrapping his arms about himself and making his way along the wall, his back to Gretchen who turned the other way. He felt along the edges of the bricks, his glasses covered with water, blurring his vision.
"Gretchen?" He called, turning to look for her. "Did you find it?" He noticed motion in front of him. "Hello? Gretchen?" A slight sound, almost inaudible. Was that...giggling? Gus lost his touch on the wall as a strong gust of wind pushed him off course, knocking his glasses from his face. Practically blind without them, Gus immediately fell to his knees and began searching the ground for the necessary lenses. He heard a crunch nearby of glass breaking and his heart sank. He couldn't see anything without his glasses. He sat back, trying to find the brick wall again, praying he was headed in the right direction, wishing the guys were there. TJ would have known what to do...
Something cold and firm slipped around Gus's neck, and his vision faded. His mind lost all concentration and focus. The last thing he heard before he slipped to the ground unconscious was the sound of a young girl giggling and the crack of a wooden object hitting soft flesh.
-0-0-0-0-
"Shit..." Spinelli cried as a box of knick-knacks fell on her head. She stood in a storage closet, in front of a shelf, rummaging through a great deal of junk. She snapped her head around, "Why don't you make yourself useful, LaSalle, and hold this damn flashlight for me?" Vince slipped beside Spinelli, taking the illuminating object from her hand, brushing against her.
"What happened between you and TJ?" he asked in a hushed whisper.
"What's it to you?" Spinelli retorted, climbing up on one of the shelves to get a better look at the boxes on the top.
"Watch it, will you? You could fall," Vince warned just as Spinelli lost her grip, tumbling back and knocking him over, landing on his chest with a thud. The flashlight rolled away from them, hitting the closed door.
"If you wouldn't distract me," Spinelli scowled, attempting to pull herself up but getting tangled with Vince who'd been trying the same thing. He stopped, placing his hands on her shoulders and meeting her eyes.
"I'm sorry, Spinelli," he told her.
"It's not that serious, LaSalle," she scoffed, squirming beneath his gaze.
"No. I mean, about before. I didn't mean to corner you like that. I don't have anything against you...it's TJ that I blame," Vince explained, "It's just when I saw you two together."
"You think this doesn't involve me? It's nothing against me?" Spinelli spat, "You hate TJ. You blame him for something that you shouldn't be blaming him for. You make him feel...you make him hate himself. Mary Anna was not his fault."
"There's a lot more going on between us than just that," Vince hissed.
"Like...for instance?"
"You."
"Me?"
"Yeah," Vince released her, picking himself up and extending a hand to her. She ignored it, pulling herself up to face him. "I'd thought I was over it...my...well...Spinelli...I had a crush on you in grade school. TJ was the only one who knew about it, because he had been my best friend, the only one I could trust. You don't know how good it felt that, with what happened, you were on my side. I thought maybe I had a chance...when we had that conversation. There was so much I had wanted to tell you. I'd thought I was sick back then and TJ had told me to ignore it, that maybe it would go away. Then when we stopped talking and hanging out, it hurt at first, but I eventually stopped thinking about you. I started to think that I was over you. But then, in TJ's backyard," Vince turned his back to her, pounding his fist into his open hand, "He'd betrayed me and nothing hurt more. He took the girl I..."
"Vince, I don't get what you're trying to say," Spinelli whispered, biting her lower lip. He turned again to face her.
"Don't you get it, Spinelli? I'm in love with you," he said, "And I can't forgive TJ, because he betrayed me. He knew how I felt about you."
"Vince...don't..."
"No. TJ hurt you, Spinelli, I'm not blind I can see it. I wouldn't do that to you," Vince told her, placing his hands on her shoulders, "I am in love with you, Ashley Spinelli." He leaned in, touching his lips to hers and for a moment she did nothing, standing in shock while he pressed his kissed against her unwilling mouth. Finally a sound from the doorway allowed Spinelli to muster the strength and push Vince away. They turned to the door where a young man held a flashlight at them, a frown pulling at his lips, and eyes that seemed deadened by the scene before him.
"Teej..." Spinelli stuttered. There came a loud rumble and the lights turned on. TJ turned from them, making his way back to the front, Spinelli running after him and Vince following at her heel. "TJ, listen to me," Spinelli cried, grabbing his sleeve.
"No, I'm done talking, Spinelli," TJ snapped, turning on her, "I don't care anymore. Vince is perfect for you, isn't he? You guys can work out at the gym together! And hell, he can attend your goddamned tournaments and you can go to his basketball games! You guys can live your perfect lives, the perfect little couple!" The door behind the counter opened and Gretchen entered, soaking wet despite the piece of green tarp wrapped about her.
"What's going on?" she questioned Mikey having heard the shouts from TJ. Mikey shrugged, staring wide-eyed at them.
"TJ, I didn't...he kissed me," Spinelli protested.
"I don't care who the hell kissed who, Spinelli. I don't care," TJ shrugged, "Vince...Jocko...what does it matter who the guy is? I mean, sheesh, I don't want to worry about it anymore. We're not right for each other, that's just how it is. So why don't you go run off with Vince, or whoever else you choose. Some muscle guy that's perfect for you, because I sure as hell ain't. And you can tell your parents about him, huh? Because he's done something with his life, he's nothing to be ashamed of. He's handsome, a lot better looking than me, and rich..." No one was quite sure what happened when they heard the crack. TJ's hand went to his left cheek, his face turned from the force of the impact, eyes shut and Spinelli stood in front of him, fist clenched, back arched; watching the skin beneath TJ's hand turn red. Spinelli had punched TJ, which was all the onlookers could begin to comprehend. TJ slowly turned to look at Spinelli, expecting a glare that would make flowers wilt. Instead he was faced with tears flowing down pristine cheeks, eyes filled not only with anger but pain as well, and a trembling lower lip. It was enough to kill him.
"Never... never...you'll never get it," she whispered through clenched teeth. She turned from him, burst through the door of Kelso's, running down the street, wiping her eyes on her arm, though it didn't matter because she was already soaked through and leaving the stunned group behind.
"I..." TJ mumbled, staring blankly at his hands, he could just feel the pain in his cheek forming a bruise, but he didn't care. It was nothing compared to the pain in his chest.
"Where's Gus?" Gretchen inquired, cleaning her glasses on a rag she found behind the counter.
"He was with you, Gretchen," Mikey reminded her as though speaking to a three year old.
"He disappeared when we were out back," Gretchen countered scathingly, then looking about the shop in confusion, "I thought he came back in here...but..."
"Shouldn't one of us go after Spinelli?" Vince asked, staring out the window where Spinelli had run off.
"I bet you'd like to be the shoulder she cries on," TJ muttered unemotionally, rubbing his cheek. He hadn't meant anything by it, but Vince didn't see it that way.
"You really should have watched your mouth," Vince shouted, wheeling on TJ, "Who's the bastard now, huh? I'm not sure on this...but I think it may be you. You had no right to say those things to her. I can't believe she was with you so long."
"You don't know anything about her, Vince," TJ shot back, fists clenched at his side.
"I know that you're not good enough for her."
"Maybe I'm not. But she chose me back then, and that kills you doesn't it?" TJ yelled, "You don't care about her, Vince, not in the way you think you do. You don't even know who she is."
"Oh really? Her favorite colors are black and blue. She loves wrestling, spaghetti, and lost three teeth in a fight against Lawson when she was in the first grade, nothing compared to the damage she did to his face. I was her best friend too, Teej." Vince sneered.
"That was before, Vince," TJ roared, "You don't know shit about who she is now. You don't know that her first job was at Floppy Burgers and that she got fired because she kept cutting the sleeves off her uniform. You don't know that she needed tutoring all through math. You don't know that her first painting was entitled 'Gingersnap' and hangs in our bedroom and that she painted it after our first fight and that it was snowing that night! You don't know that she works as a waitress at some cheap diner that she doesn't mind yet but'll probably quit in the next few months because she'll get bored with it and look for something else. You don't even know that she snores, but it doesn't matter because it's soft and steady and she looks like an angel when she sleeps so I'd rather watch her anyhow! You don't know anything about who she is now, Vince. You want the same girl you used to know, but she's changed, and she's grown up. You're a goddamned fool if you think you love her or even feel anything about her, because facts are facts, you don't even know her. You don't even know that only an idiot with a death wish would chase after Spinelli in the mood she's in now."
"Hello, did you guys not hear me?" Gretchen cried, interrupting the two young men and bringing them back to their surroundings, "Gus is missing. And Spinelli took off. Would you guys either please fill me in on what's going on or shut up and help me look for Gus."
"Gretch," Mikey spoke up, "What happened to the other messages?"
"What?" Gretchen turned to the table where she'd left the five mysterious letters. There were only three now.
END A/N: Well...what'd you think? A good way to let me know is to review. For those of you following and wondering when are TJ and Spinelli going to make amends, if ever, well...all I have to say is, get ready for one hell of an emotional rollercoaster ride. I just want to give TJ a hug in this story. I always want to give TJ a hug, but sad, self-loathing TJ...I just want to snuggle. I know, I'm weird...but I'm allowed to be because I've accepted it as a truth and a fact.
Please excuse any grammatical and typing errors. I saw one last time I wrote this little message...meh.
Thanks for reading. Now go review.