A/N: Very short chapter...very short. The next chapter, the last chapter, I predict will be longer, but I make no promises.
Thanks to the reviewers:
TNPD: I hope this doesn't seem rushed to you...yeah, I think sometimes you have to break before you can be fixed; that's how Spin is.
iluvdanbyrd: I think this one doesn't end in a cliff-hanger, though it does leave you with a few last remaining questions, and much needed closure.
RavenForever: I'm allowed to buy all those CDs, I have a job. I work so damn hard too. I have to work the day before Thanksgiving (late into the night), and the day after(early in the morn). We're closed on Thanksgiving. And just for you, I'll update both stories.
Sarah: Yeah, I'm not gonna put Killing the Daisies on haitus, there are a lot of readers for that story that don't read this one, and frankly, it wouldn't be fair to them. So, even though I have to drag my ass around, spend long hours typing, and work my patootie off, I will keepworking on both, though this one is almost over! (YAY!)
DAGL: Yeah, the psycho is...well...a psycho.
goofymonkeychild: YAY! Long time, no review! I don't think you're a snob, I'm just happy whenever I see you're s/n on my review board, and a great deal happier when I see a lengthy review following it much like the one you've given. YUP. I like Gus and Theresa's relationship in this as well. I don't think I can write sap, I hate sap, I don't know what sap is. hun. My updates have slowed down as well, not to mention, the story is coming to its dreaded end. ah, well, it was fun while it lasted.
music recs: Somethingnot so dramatic, a little airy. Dark, and sorrowfilled. I'm thinking, Hallelujah by Rufus Wainwright should hit the spot; or maybe Hold Your Hand by Paul Oakenfield feat. Emiliana Torrini, and maybe, Sleep by Dandy Warhols.
One more chapterto go...ENJOY!
Chapter 34: Let The Smoke Clear
When the police and fire department arrived, the gym was in full blaze. Dave was frantic, watching as the ambulances pulled up, taking both Ashley T. and Menlo away. He heard talk of needing a blood transfusion stat for Menlo. There was also talk of getting in the gym, busting down the door. Dave told them how many people he thought were inside, but even he wasn't certain, and then their conditions were another matter.
"My brother's in there," he told them, "My little brother…I told him not to go in…but…oh, Sammy…"
The fire officials went forward, wielding axes, dressed in the long trench coats and trousers and hats of their trade. Three of them, at least, advanced on the door, when it swung open.
Spinelli was the first out, falling to the ground unconscious. Mikey, Gus, and Gretchen came to her side almost immediately. Ashley A. and Ashley B. rushed out, stepping over Spinelli and gathering away from the building, looking back to her with concern as Mikey lifted the fallen form in his arms, carrying her out to safety. Dave watched with anxiousness, for moments, no one came. He rushed forward, held back by the police officers. Finally, Sam and Ashley Q. made their ways out with steady steps; Francis balanced between them, unconscious as well. The paramedics came to their aid.
"Sam," Dave called, coming to his brother, who was relieved of Francis by a few paramedics, and flinging his arms around him, "Don't ever do that again."
"I'm fine, Dave," Sam assured him, awkwardly returning the embrace.
"There are more people inside," Mikey was telling a fireman, "Five, I believe."
The world seemed a hush as those who were safe stared watching the fire. It engulfed the building now, choking the air with its thick black smoke. Their eyes were glossy, a few had tears streaming down their ash stained faces. A police officer, Sergeant Wallace Braun, stepped forward to the coherent of the group, Gretchen, Mikey, Sam, and Dave.
"I need an explanation," he told them, grim faced. Gretchen assumed the role of unofficial spokeswoman.
"You won't believe us," she whispered, "Fifteen years ago, this gym burned down with a little girl inside. She was enrolled at Third Street as Mary Anna James, but her real name was, as far as I can figure, Brenda James; daughter of Freud James the doll maker. She was inside the building, when it burned down, but she wasn't killed. I don't know how she escaped, but…the reason she was locked inside of it in the first place was the fault of sixteen children, her classmates who despised her, but had not planned for her to be in a fire, or harmed in any such manner. Believing that she was dead, after the fire, they gathered and signed a pact, swearing never to speak of the incident again. They buried the pact, as well as the evidence that tied them to the death of Mary Anna James.
"But I guess that doesn't explain what's going on here, to your satisfaction. As it would turn out, Mary Anna; or Brenda, as I suppose I should call her from now on, is a little on the insane side. From what little I have laid witness to, I would have to say that she displays several pathological tendencies. She suffers from a very strange case of multiple personality disorder, and, from what I can tell, she's a sociopath. What's more, she has a rare pathology that causes her to fabricate these relationships and connections with people that she never possessed. She believes, for one thing, to be the lover of one man in particular and that they both are madly in love. This pathology is, perhaps, mostly attributed to stalkers…"
"Okay…um…" Sergeant Wallace interrupted, "That's real fascinating, ma'am, but what happened here, tonight?" Gretchen met his eyes with a dead stare.
"Brenda came back for those sixteen children."
"You're saying you locked a little girl in a gym when you were kids, and that gym burned down, while she was caught inside; however, she didn't die?"
"Correct."
"And that, fifteen years later, she's come back to make you pay for it. Revenge?"
"I believe so, yes."
"You're right. I don't believe you," the Sergeant shook his head, then turned to the burning building, "How did you kids get in there?"
"The key," Gretchen closed her eyes, heaving a heavy sigh, "She was haunting us…not really wanting to kill us…I don't think she wanted to kill us, at least, not yet."
"Okay, so now you're going back to the psychopath story, aren't you?" Sergeant Wallace demanded and Gretchen nodded.
"I'm not lying," she muttered, "What do you want me to say? That sixteen young adults, living fairly successful lives, and of varying prestige, decided to gather one night at their old school, break into the gym, and light it on fire; just for kicks? And then, in turn, these undoubtedly intellectual individuals, not only got themselves into injured positions, went and called the police, fire department, and hospital, indicating themselves in such a heinous crime?"
"Um…" Sergeant Wallace shifted slightly, "Ma'am, with all due respect, this is what I'm seeing. What you're telling me, would you believe it?"
"Some of my closest friends are trapped in that building. They're hurt, may be dying, or even, possibly, already dead," Gretchen stammered, her face contorting with tears, "TJ and Vince…do you honestly think, for one minute, that I would intentionally put myself into this position? Intentionally put my friends into this position?" There was a shock, as Spinelli bolted upright, a commotion as she fought with the paramedic attempting to administer her drugs.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, catching the attention of everyone save the firemen attempting to put out the flames enough so that they may enter the building and search for the missing people, "Where's TJ? What's going on? Where's that bitch, Mary Anna?"
"Spinelli, please calm down," Gretchen soothed, rushing to Spinelli's side.
"Where's TJ?" she asked again, looking to Gretchen almost pleadingly. Gretchen looked downcast, and Spinelli's eyes trailed to the burning building. "He isn't out yet, is he?" her voice was trembling, and the onlookers were quiet, somber. "He's dead."
"You have a great deal of compassion for an ex-girlfriend. I mean, didn't he break your heart?" Ashley B. murmured. Spinelli turned a dangerous glare on the woman.
"That doesn't mean I wanted him dead," she snapped, pulling herself to her feet, and attempting to make her way towards the gym. A few paramedics grabbed her, trying to hold her back.
"Spinelli, what are you doing?" Gretchen asked, helping to hold the trembling woman.
"I'm going in there," Spinelli cried, "I'm going to try and find TJ. If he's dead…then I want to at least make sure that bitch Mary Anna is dead too!"
"Someone's coming out," a man shouted, holding back the hose as the smoke of the doorway cleared. The gang strained their eyes as the figures stumbled forward. Vince and Butch became clearer, moving forward, carrying Randall's lax form. A few paramedics came forward, taking Randall. Spinelli was shaking, her eyes staring intently at that door. No one else was coming.
"No…" she whispered, Gretchen's hand lightly squeezing her shoulder. Her breath caught. With slow and steady movements, a last figure moved out, clutching his side, a red cap casually placed on his head.
"TJ," Gretchen gasped, as she and the others rushed to the last of their group, to greet them, to see how they were. Spinelli stayed back, studying TJ with a careful gaze, unmoving. Blood, dirt, smoke, smeared his skin, his face was a grimace. He refused help from the paramedics, allowing Vince to support his weight, as he moved slowly towards the ambulance. He was ashamed of something. Sad and disheartened. Spinelli ducked inside the white van, the ambulance that would be her transportation to the hospital. She could hear the others outside, with relieved cries of greeting, hugs were being exchanged, laughter. She couldn't face him. He was alive, that's all she needed.
-0-0-0-0-
For the second time on that trip back home, the gang found themselves in the hospital. For Menlo, TJ, Francis, and Randall the night was critical. They'd all lost a great deal of blood, and transfusions were rarely necessary at the small town hospital. They were short on blood donation. A few nurses, and some of the rest of the group, were called to help with giving blood. There was a moment of distress, when the doctors were almost certain they'd lost Menlo. But it passed, when finally, all four young men were deemed stable.
They slept, all of them, well into the next day. It was the following evening, when finally things were being cleared up. Every local news station was covering the gym story, but no names had been released as to who was involved. It was late when the Sergeant Wallace had the group of them, save for the four young men still considered in critical condition, gathered in a white hospital room.
"I'd like to know exactly what went down in that gym," he told them, "I know that the night has been difficult for all of you, but I need to know exactly what happened."
"That's the thing, sir," Vince spoke up, "We're not sure what happened in there. We've all exchanged stories of the account, and none of them make sense, even to us. All we can agree on is that it's over. We didn't light the gym on fire…that was Mary Anna, but…um…"
"If you don't mind, sir," Ashley A. picked up, "We're all very tired, and distraught. Perhaps we can talk about this at a later time, when we all have had a moments rest, and have been able to speak to our lawyers." The Sergeant sighed, shaking his head.
"It won't be necessary, speaking to your lawyers. I can tell that something happened there that night, and that any explanation I receive will be as confusing and as incredible as the next. None of you are being charged for anything more than trespassing, which I've already contacted the school, and they've decided not to press charges. I don't know who this TJ Dettweiler is, but he certainly had some sway over the school board's decision," Sergeant Wallace sighed, "I just wanted to know what happened for the report. If any of you find the time, I'd appreciate if you all stopped by the station before leaving town to give a statement. Have a nice day, all of you." They watched him slip from the room, leaving them in silence.
"Is Mary Anna dead then?" Ashley A. finally whispered, a question that had been on all of their tongues since the night before.
"Yeah, I believe so," Vince answered, "When I left with TJ she was out cold and the fire was almost on her," he lowered his head, examining the floor, "I left her there to die. I know that it was either her or TJ, and I couldn't leave TJ behind…but…still…"
"It's better that she's dead," Spinelli said solemnly, before lifting herself up and exiting the room.
"She hasn't spoken to TJ, yet," Mikey remarked as the door shut.
"I wonder what happened between them," Gretchen mused, "It seems a little more than just a simple break up…TJ seems just as uninterested in getting back together as her, but they still love one another."
"Guilt and misery," Ashley A. commented, "What a happy pair."
"What did happen in there?" Ashley B. whispered, "I mean, all I remember was the lights going out, getting separated from the others, and finding Sam."
"What's been happening the past few weeks?" Butch replied, "The past fifteen years, even? Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary, that is. It seems anticlimactic, if you ask me. You can't bury your secrets without burying yourself." He lifted himself up wearily, heaving a heavy sigh, before heading for the door. He was thinking of going to see Randall, but he didn't feel it was necessary to tell the others that. They sat in silence for a moment, before each dispersing from the room and heading their own ways.
-0-0-0-0-
Gus slipped into the room where Theresa sat rocking their daughter. She was silent, eyeing him through half-closed lids.
"She's sleeping," Theresa whispered. They hadn't spoken since Gus had gotten back to the hospital the night before. He knelt beside her, running his fingers along the peach fuzz on his daughter's scalp. "Is it over?"
"It's over," Gus kissed Theresa gently, "It's over…"
"I decided on a name," Theresa said, "But I wanted to consult someone first…"
"Who?" She smiled softly, closing her eyes and taking her husband's hand.
"I should be mad at you," she told him.
"For what?" Gus asked, brushing the hair from his wife's face and startled to find tears in her eyes.
"What would I have done…if I lost you? What would I have done?" she demanded, "How could you go in there…how could you be so…"
"It's alright, Theresa," Gus comforted, gathering her in his arms, careful of their daughter, "It's over and done. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere." They were silent, as he held his family tightly.
-0-0-0-0-
Spinelli was taken by surprise when her parents entered the hospital in a rush, Joey trailing behind. They threw their arms about her, crying and sobbing and going on about how they didn't know where she was and how worried they'd been. She saw the Dettweilers making their ways in, Becky gave Spinelli a weak smile, crossing over.
"How are you doing?" she asked, giving Spinelli a brief hug. It wasn't necessary to ask, as Spinelli's looks were more than evident of her well-being. She was a mess, looked like hell, literally.
"Fine," she lied.
"And TJ…?" Spinelli looked away, "He loves you, you know."
"Tell him…tell him I left," Spinelli mumbled, before rejoining her parents to sign her release form. She walked out the door of the hospital, her parents' arms around her. Becky watched in silence, before her own parents beckoned her to follow them down the hall to TJ's room.
The hospital seemed bright compared to the outside. There was a resounding relief through the sixteen conspirators as some began preparing to head home and others were greeted by their parents. They all seemed to agree, that it was indeed, over.
END A/N: I have to say, I am not loving all the changes fanfiction is making. It's pissing me off. Everything was very efficient in the beginning, and I liked it. Now...ah, oh well.
Next chapter: The gang goes their separate ways, heading home, and a few last minute things are solved.
PLEASE REVIEW.
THanks for reading, please excuse any grammatical and typing errors, and have a nice Turkey Day!
gobble, gobble...