Hello all. This will probably be the last part up until next weekend...I'm moving this Sunday, and then it's back to my grownup job on Monday. Grading papers does not lend itself to having lots of free time ;) Don't worry, though, not much further to go, now!
Disclaimer: I am in no way associated with the creators of Static Shock, and am making no money off of this. It is for entertainment purposes only.
How long they sat there, trying to devour each other's mouths, he wasn't sure. Eventually, however, common sense started knocking on the door again. Here, Virgil found the intervening ten years he had experienced useful. It had been a long time since the head south of the border had done all his thinking for him. At least a few months.
Reluctantly, he pulled his hands out from under Richie's shirt, leaving the delicious expanse of skin they had been exploring behind. Richie made a small noise of protest, and Virgil chuckled lightly. "Rich," he murmured between kisses, "Rich, c'mon man, we can't do this here." A difficult sentence to utter, but entirely true.
"Hmm? Hmm…why not?"
"Because….uh…oh geez…because my Dad and Sharon are still downstairs." Richie finally pulled away, sitting back on his heels. Instantly, Virgil felt the loss of heat and it was all he could do not to pull his friend back down to him.
"We could be quiet," Richie suggested, smiling. Virgil's brain blanked out for a moment as he struggled to remember why he had suggested they stop in the first place.
"Tempting…very tempting. But c'mon—" He reached up and ran his fingers through sweat-darkened blond hair, relishing the freedom to do so. "I think you're worth more than trying to be quiet while we have a quick roll on my bedroom floor."
"Been watching those daytime soaps again?" Richie looked flattered, though, and quietly rolled off of Virgil's lap to sit beside him. Virgil snickered as the other boy covertly tried to "adjust" himself. Richie mock-glared at him. "Hey, buddy, I better not be the only one in need of a cold shower, here!"
"Alva in a G-string," Virgil said simply. He could literally watch the process of the words registering in Richie's ears. An expression of sheer horror came over his face, and his hands clamped over his ears in a belated effort to protect them from such vile sensory data. He rolled away, thrashing on the floor.
"Gah! Oh my God, V, how could you—gah! Oh that's gross!"
"Did it work?" Richie paused in his melodramatic thrashing to glance down at his lap.
"Yeah, actually. Bastard."
Virgil laughed and flopped down on his stomach to lie next to Richie, reaching to hook an arm across Richie's stomach. They lay there for a few moments, just staring up at the ceiling. Finally, though, Virgil broke the silence.
"So, can I assume you feel the same way about me?" he asked playfully, but there was a hint of real insecurity behind the words. Richie hadn't actually said the words himself, yet.
"What, V, you think I've been hanging around for the spandex and the opportunity to risk my life in new and interesting ways?" Richie snorted. Then he turned serious. He focused harder on the ceiling, and when Virgil glanced over, he could see bright red rising in Richie's cheeks. "You're one of the best things in my life, Virg. You're my best friend, my partner…hell; you're a part of me. Yeah, I love you. I have for a long time." He turned on his side to face Virgil, and a wicked grin twisted his lips. "You…complete me," he intoned dramatically. Virgil mimed wiping away a tear.
"Just stop—you had me at spandex. You had me at spandex!" The two collapsed into laughter, the grave tone of the conversation broken. Abruptly, though, Richie stopped.
"Hey V?"
"Yeah?"
"Let's make a pact right now never to tell anyone we can quote 'Jerry Maguire', okay?" Virgil paused in his chortles as well, considering the consequences if that ever got out.
"Deal," he agreed. Then Richie sat up, attempting to push his thoroughly mussed hair into some kind of order. He glanced over into the closet mirror and grimaced, quickly looking away.
"Oh hey!" he said suddenly, jumping up off the floor. "You've got to open your present!" Virgil sat up as well, his eyes straying automatically to the box that, in his future had come to be a symbol of the worst day of his life.
Who's here for Richard Foley?
Looking up to see an imposing man in a bright white coat standing in the door of the waiting room. Stands up automatically with Richie's parents, then hesitates, nearly sitting down again. Rush of relief as Mrs. Foley grabs his hand, shooting a quelling glance at her husband.
"Uh, that's okay, Rich…I can wait 'til Christmas."
Mr. and Mrs. Foley, if you'd follow me—the boy can wait here.
Shoots a pleading glance at his father, who merely shakes his head, leaving the decision up to the Foleys.
Virgil is Richie's best friend…they're practically brothers. He can hear this, if he wants to.
Trying to communicate his gratitude to Mrs. Foley with his eyes alone, as he can't speak past the lump in his throat.
Folks, we've done everything we can. Richie's injuries were extensive, but most worrying is the blow to the head. Mr. and Mrs. Foley, your son's skull was fractured in three places.
"Nah, c'mon…I wanna see the look on your face."
Moves with Mr. Foley to catch Richie's mother as her legs give out. Can't remember hearing a human make such a terrible sound of despair. Can't even call it a sob.
Now, we managed to relieve the pressure on his brain, but…I'm sorry, there's no chance that there wasn't some brain damage. We won't know how extensive the injury was until the swelling goes down. He slipped into a coma during surgery.
W-when will he wake up?
Mr. Foley's hands are shaking, tears standing out in his eyes.
Flash of sympathy on the doctor's face, and Virgil feels something inside of him shatter, pain beyond words swelling up within him.
We don't know, Mr. Foley. He might never wake up.
"V, please? I got my present early. Mine isn't nearly as awesome, now, but…I really think you're gonna like it."
Richie looked so hopeful, so excited. Virgil couldn't say no, even if the thought of touching the gift that was the last thing Richie would ever give him. He didn't want to think about the things that present would remind him of. Still, he shrugged and held his hands out for the box. If Richie wanted him to open it, then he would open it.
He held the box in his lap for a few moments, just looking at the familiar polka-dotted pattern on the paper, and the shiny green ribbon. How many times had he sat in just this position over the years? Every Christmas for ten years, after he had left Richie's hospital room, he had found himself sitting with this box in his hands, reliving the horrible night over and over again. He had tried to open this box many times in his life, but had never quite managed it.
He almost didn't want to, now. The box had come to represent so much to Virgil…to open it and reveal the CD or computer game it surely was would cheapen it, somehow. Virgil wasn't sure he was ready to face the thing beneath the wrapping; sure it would be more bitter than sweet. He didn't know if he could bear it. It was all a moot point, though, because Richie was practically vibrating beside him, and Virgil couldn't think of any plausible excuse for not wanting to open the present.
Carefully hiding his dubious expression from his friend, he pulled at the green ribbon on top. His habit of opening presents slowly and carefully always drove Richie crazy…which was why he always did it. This time, though, his seeming reluctance had nothing to do with teasing the young man beside him. The ribbon fell away, and he began pulling at the tape on top, peeling each piece one by one. Beside him, he knew Richie was rolling his eyes and shaking his head. He didn't even have to look.
The paper fell away as well, revealing a plain white box, about the size of a large shoebox. He still expected it to be a CD or a game of some sort…Richie was the type to put mounds and mounds of tissue paper around a rather small gift just for a laugh. When he pulled the lid off, though, he was surprised to see a mound of thick, slightly shiny, black cloth. He turned questioning eyes to Richie, who merely shrugged, and gestured for him to take the cloth out of the box.
"It's…it's a coat." It was nearly an exact copy of the trench coat he wore as Static. Richie smacked his own forehead lightly and shook his head.
"V, gimme some credit here! That's a coat the way Niagara Falls is a water feature. Try it on!" Virgil cocked an eyebrow, but obligingly stood up and slipped the garment on. It was lighter than his current costume. He turned around to see Richie still sporting that 'kid-in-a-candy-store' look he got when he was showing off one of his new inventions.
"Okay, bro, I give. Tell me all about the special features."
"Well, Mr. Hawkins, I'm glad you asked. The cloth like substance this garment consists of is actually the next generation of Kevlar, due to start being mass produced for our fine police force in order to better protect them from the new challenges presented by the bang babies. Naturally, I tweaked the chemical composition of the fibers a little, not as easy as it sounds with the equipment available in the average school science lab, by the way. This sucker is heat-resistant, totally waterproof, will stop a bullet cold and, if you will note, sewn into the hem are five, count them five, separate battery packs, each capable of generating a 280 kilowatt charge in case of accidental shortage. All in an attractive black ensemble with optional dramatic billowing capability."
"Richie---you made this?" Virgil was stunned. Richie ducked his head, rubbing the back of his neck absently.
"Well…Backpack helped a little. You should have seen my mom's face when I asked her to show me how to sew a hem."
"Rich, this must have taken weeks! And wait a minute, how'd you get a hold of this Kevlar stuff if it hasn't come out yet?"
"Who do you think came up with the formula? Gear gets calls from R & D teams all over the world. I figured I could help out a few of Dakota's finest, and get you a kick ass present all at once. So, you like?"
"Like? Richie, this is awesome!" In more ways than one. It touched him in ways he couldn't describe to know that Richie had expended so much effort and thought on something for Virgil. He could picture Richie in the gas station, bent over his workbench, analyzing battle after battle and ruthlessly ticking off each and every weakness in their defenses. How many hours had he spent finding ways to eliminate those weaknesses, how many calculations and computations had he spent finding ways to make sure Virgil was as safe as possible during battle? Now that he thought about it, he could remember weeks before this Christmas when Richie had seemed more tired than patrol should have accounted for.
There was a more practical side to Virgil's astonishment, as well. Offhand, Virgil could think of half a dozen battles just in the past year that something like this could have made a major difference in. The Justice League was well-armed, and they all took their personal safety very seriously…but Virgil had never met anyone who could think in the patterns that Richie's mind had worked in. He couldn't even imagine what the Watchtower would have been able to become had Richie gotten his hands on it.
"/That's how it should have been…both of us, partners 'til the end. He should have been a part of the League, too./" Such thoughts sent a new stab of pain through his heart, though, and he shoved them away.
He had Richie, for now. He had until Christmas Eve to show Richie just how much he had always loved him, and always would. Impulsively, he leaned over and kissed Richie again, feeling the thrill of the freedom he now had to do such things.
"Hey," Richie laughingly protested after a moment, though he didn't move away from Virgil. "No fair starting things you aren't gonna finish." The laughter quickly disappeared though. "You're right though…we should wait. I don't want to mess this up. There's no need to rush."
Virgil closed his eyes briefly as the irony of that statement hit him. There was, indeed, reason to rush. But he'd seen too many of their friends' relationships fizzle to want to risk tainting the time he had left with Richie with disappointment or awkwardness. He leaned his forehead against Richie's and they stood that way for a long moment.
"This is gonna be the best Christmas, ever," Richie murmured quietly, and again Virgil felt that twisting pain in his heart.
"/No, Richie…it's really, really not./"
"I better go. Mom's expecting me." Richie made no move to step away, though. Virgil was suddenly seized with an irrational urge to hold him fast, to just refuse to let go. He couldn't, though…no matter what else had happened, the past hours had shown him that he would have to let go of Richie, eventually. Reluctantly, they parted with one final, sweet kiss. Richie smiled at him and headed for the door, leaving Virgil to strip out of the coat.
"Richie! Uh, wait…you're coming over tomorrow, right?" Richie turned back and saluted smartly.
"Wouldn't miss it!"
Virgil stowed the coat in the depths of his closet, closed the door and leaned wearily against it.
"You, uh, don't look as happy as I thought you would." Virgil didn't turn around, merely sighed heavily.
"Faith…I need to ask you something. And I need you to tell me the truth."
"O…kay." Finally, Virgil turned to face the angel, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed, an unreadable expression on her face.
"That was probably the best hour of my life. I did it…I told him I love him, and he loves me back. You were right. This is a gift, Faith…the most amazing gift I've ever gotten."
Faith smiled gently, happiness shining from her dark eyes. "I'm so glad you feel that way, Virgil."
"So I gotta know something," Virgil continued, as though she hadn't spoken. "Why now?"
"Why now, what?"
"Why did it take ten years for you to decide to give me this? Why are you doing this for me, now?"
"Ummmm…" Faith averted her eyes, and Virgil sighed again.
"I'm not going to have anymore time with him, am I?" He was proud of how steady his voice sounded.
"I—Virgil…"
"I knew it was just a matter of time…I mean, the doctors always told us to be prepared. You…you can't keep people alive on machines, forever."
"Virgil, I'm so sorry."
"Just…just—will it hurt? Will he be in pain?"
"No!" Faith said quickly. "No, Virgil I swear…it'll be easy. He won't feel anything."
Virgil nodded, faintly. He went to the bed and sank down beside her.
"Promise me something, Faith."
"If I can," she agreed softly.
"Promise you'll take me back before it happens. Promise me I'll be there with him."
"Virgil, I don't know if—"
"Faith, please! I can't let him be alone." He couldn't look at her, instead staring straight ahead and willing himself to remain calm.
"You have my word," she whispered finally.
"Thank you."
"Virgil—"
"Don't, Faith. I've still got until tomorrow night. I've got a little over twenty four hours. I'm going to make them the best of our lives."