Disclaimer: I don't own anything WAT-related, not even a red push pin!
Each of us angels
Summary: Can Danny Taylor ever admit that he needs someone? Danny-centric.
"We are each of us angels with only one wing, and we can only fly by embracing one another." - Titus Lucretius Carus
Ah, more angst. I didn't mean it, but an evil spirit set on my shoulder all day:) I do, however, solemnly promise to not torture Danny for long. Because he SO doesn't deserve it, and because I suck at suspense. :)
Thank you, all of you guys, for keeping me in reviews, and for being so amazing about it! If I could prevail upon him (or if I had any control over such things), you'd all get a fresh cup of coffee every morning, brewed by Mama Arevalo, and delivered by one Danny Taylor in person:)
SpyMaster, you can uncross those fingers, there's no subtle M/S ship here what so ever. :) I simply try to stay within the bounds of canon. This story takes place during one week in mid-February, and, if I am correct, Martin and Sam, during this time, are together and fighting over the disclosure of their relationship. I write this as if observed by Danny. :)
He woke up with a severe headache and still on the couch. The urgent need for a drink that he hadn't felt in the past several days had resurfaced.
It was early and a Saturday, and her mother was still there, so Danny restrained his first impulse to go and knock on Audrey's door and busied himself with the mundane morning activities. A shower picked him up a little. Giving grumpy Oscar his breakfast while drinking the predictably undrinkable coffee kept him from running down the hall and barging in.
He was unsettled. Not that he bought a single word of what Mrs. Mills had told him last night. He put it down to the workings of her Macciavellian mind and to her desire to shelter her daughter from any and all possible harm. What truly bothered him was the reaction Audrey seemed to have had to her mother's presence. She was different with that woman around, and Danny didn't like the change.
It wasn't wholly unexpected. Danny has seen it time and time again. People behave differently and are perceived differently around those who would push their buttons. And the button-pushers tend to be the nearest and dearest, if for no other reason that they have been there the longest and had ample time to figure out where the buttons are located. The effects, though, are bound to subside once the irritation is removed. All he had to do is wait for that woman to leave, Danny told himself.
All the same, he was afraid.
He called the office to check on the progress. It was a day off, but Danny usually worked through at least a part of them. He checked the clock and, knowing that Mrs. Fuller also suffered from insomnia and was bound to be up already, made his way to #76. Oscar under one arm, a brown paper bag under the other.
He had to restrain himself almost physically from stopping by #72 and listening at the door.
Mercifully, Mrs. Fuller opened her door quickly. Frail though she was these days, she still retained most of her briskness.
"Danny, what a nice surprise!" She always said that, even though she was hardly surprised and, by this time, it was practically a ritual.
Danny deposited Oscar on the floor. "I brought back the prodigal feline."
"Thank you, Danny. I don't know how I forgot he wasn't at home." She smiled and petted the cat. "Did you have breakfast, dear? I am not much for regular meals anymore - an old body needs so little - but if you stay and keep me company, we can have a nice Saturday morning feast."
Danny felt torn. This was something he usually did: making sure Mrs. Fuller kept up her strength by sharing her meals whenever possible. He mostly pretended to eat, distracting her with conversation and making sure she at least attempted her food.
This morning, however, all he wanted to do was talk to Audrey. Reasoning with himself that it was still early, and that she wasn't much of a morning person, he settled at Mrs. Fuller's kitchen table, discretely opening the brown bag and taking out some things he picked up for her during the week.
He did that, too. A pack of sugar when he noticed she was low. A light bulb to change in the bathroom. A new battery for the wall clock. Small things here and there that she'd completely forget to buy. He would go about replacing them without saying anything. Danny wasn't sure if she even knew, but it was just something he did as a matter of fact.
"I have waffles, dear. I used to love waffles. Now, I can't even taste anything properly. But they are easy to make and I have the nicest syrup that I don't even remember getting! Just found it in the fridge yesterday. It's Maple. Also used to be my favorite."
Danny, who bought the Maple Syrup a week ago, didn't mention it.
They had waffles in somewhat of a silence. Danny, preoccupied, didn't talk much, and Mrs. Fuller, unusually lucid on that morning, was observing him.
"You know, dear, I think I like our new neighbor," she startled Danny out of his reverie. "She seems solid. A little gun-shy, may be, but basically solid. So very few people are these days."
Danny smiled and shook his head. "Just when I think you are not paying attention, I am shocked to realize that nothing much gets past you, Mrs. Fuller."
"Not the important things, no." She looked at him intently.
"I won't presume to give you advice, especially knowing that you are more than capable of doing well without it. I would just say that a girl like that should be given some room to figure things out. She seems to have a decent head on her shoulders, and enough of good taste to like you."
Danny chuckled. "Thank you, but you are biased."
"I am that, no doubt, but I am also old. And I was privileged in this life to have had the love and the long-term companionship of a truly excellent man. And if experience counts for something, then I can tell you that, in the end, if the person is worth it, all the calamities and all the fighting you have to do to get and keep them are worth it, also."
XXXXXXX
He exited Mrs. Fuller's apartment and stopped. She was standing on his welcome mat, head downcast, drawing invisible patterns on his door.
"Audrey! I thought you'd be still asleep."
"It's OK, I figured you didn't go far. I would have waited."
The message was welcome, but the messenger looked pale, drawn, and sad. Danny noticed the dark circles under her eyes and mentally cursed Mrs. Mills and her confounded "inspection" visit."
They walked into his kitchen, Audrey silent, and Danny chattering away to avoid any possible awkward pauses.
"Coffee? I know you detest this, but I swear, it has reanimating qualities. It can wake the dead."
She shook her head and Danny grabbed her into a warm, enveloping hug. "Hey, it's OK, baby. It'll be OK. Tell you what we'll do: we'll ditch your mom and go have something seriously fattening and extremely hazardous to our health at the Casa. I just had a waffle at Mrs. Fuller's, and my system is revolting. It demands some manly breakfast."
"Danny, I can't." She extricated herself from his hug gently. "I'm going home."
"Home? I happen to know there's nothing in your fridge that's even remotely breakfast-like. . . ."
"I meant home to Philly. I am leaving with mother. We are taking a 1:34 out of Penn Station."
"What? What the hell? You are dropping out of school?" He had to ask that, because asking the other question was unthinkable.
"No. I'm going for a weekend. I'll be back on Monday."
Relief that flooded him was almost physical.
"Thank God! You scared me there for a second."
Audrey kept silent, her eyes still cast to the ground.
"Audrey, what is it? You don't want to go? You should just tell her you are not going. She cannot very well drag you by force!"
"I know she talked to you last night. I wasn't really sleeping."
"Yeah, your mother is quite something. I see now why she left such an impression."
"We had a long talk after she came back."
"Well, that explains the dark circles. You really should have told her you needed sleep. Both of you, in fact. These 3 a.m. soul searching sessions are seldom productive and never positive."
"Danny, the thing is, she is right. I have no business messing up your life. . . ."
"Woah, woah, wait a minute! What happened? We were fine! How are you messing up my life?"
"I will, eventually. I always do. . . ."
"This isn't you, Audrey, that's your mother talking! This fatalistic attitude. . . ."
". . . is exactly me. You don't know. I am not good at this. All I do is hurt people . . . ."
"Stop! I don't know what she said to you. I don't know what arguments she used, what instances from the past she invoked to illustrate her point, but she is wrong! Or devious! Or manipulative! She doesn't like me, and . . . ."
"Actually, she does. She said she was impressed. She said you might really be good for me."
"So, what, that's bad? . . ." He drew a sharp breath. "Oh my God! Are you telling me she was actually onto something last night? That you would always choose to do the opposite of what she considers right? Please, Audrey, I beg you, don't tell me that just because your mother thinks I'm good for you, you are going to run!"
"No, Danny, I am not some petulant child out to get her parents in a fit of a temper tantrum."
"Then, what is it?"
"It's not because she thinks you are good for me. It's because I have actually stopped and thought about this, and I can see clearly that I will be absolutely no good for you!"
"Bullshit! You're great for me! You fill me with joy! And just yesterday morning you felt so, too!"
"Yes, and just five mornings ago I didn't know you existed."
"Fine, point taken: things can change quickly with you. So what? What does it matter! Can you honestly look me in the eyes and tell me you have no feelings for me anymore?"
"This is not about my feelings, Danny. It's about yours."
"I don't understand. My feelings are crystal freaking clear: I love you! I don't think I can be any more explicit, unless you actually want me to get down on my knees!"
"Danny, no! You don't love me, you love the idea of me. . . ."
"Oh, for God's sake! Stop with the clichés, please! I don't think I can take them right now. It's the "it's not you, it's me" line, and as a writer, you should be ashamed to use it!"
"It doesn't matter what line I use, and these sentiments are clichés for a reason."
"Then let me assure you that I don't love the "idea" of you. I have no idea of you. Especially right now. But I know that it wasn't some illusion I held in my arms those past several nights, and it wasn't a figment of my imagination I traded barbs with those past several mornings!"
Danny took another ragged breath. Audrey still wouldn't look at him, and it was imperative that she should understand.
"Granted, we haven't had much time to discover every quirk or discuss every flaw, but the future is infinite for that! It only means that we will never bore each other, because there's so much for us to find out."
"Danny, don't. The only thing you'll find out that I disappoint. I will only cause you pain."
"Great, so in order to spare me the future hypothetical pain, you are willing to hurt me now? And you don't see the logical fallacy in that?"
"Any hurt you may feel now is nothing compared to what might come later. Any present pain will be fleeting . . . ."
"Allow me to be the judge of that. . . ."
"Danny! . . . It's over."
She said it quietly and with the finality and desolation in her voice that frightened Danny more than the words themselves.
"So, that's it, huh? And all those fighting words and fine proclamations were just that? You really were grandstanding!"
"I wasn't! I mean every word. I could have braved any demons from your past. It's my own demons that I can't inflict on you. I thought and I hoped I could, but I can see clearly now. Believe it or not, I am trying to spare you. . . ."
"Spare me! I mean it: spare me the rationalizations and the platitudes. I get it, I do. I just can't believe I fell for it."
Danny laughed a bitter, short laugh that didn't hold any mirth.
"Classic definition of insanity: doing the same exact thing over and over again, expecting different results. I really thought I've broken out of that. I need to get my head examined."
"Danny, I don't want us to part like this. . . ."
"I don't want us to part at all! . . . God, Audrey! What did this woman do to you? . . . Or, did she? May be she is just a convenient excuse for you to abandon things when they hint at getting a bit tougher?"
"I don't expect you to understand."
"Oh, I understand! I am not one of your 8th-graders, I don't need it spelled out for me. I am just another anecdote for you to write about when you are 60. Or, given the brevity of our encounter, I'd be lucky to get a footnote."
XXXXXXX
He reached the office in record time, and if anyone asked, Danny couldn't have told them how he got there. The headache of the morning has mushroomed into a full-blown migraine.
Jack and Sam were back, and there, in the interrogation room, was Mr. Markham.
A tall, even stately looking man, he appeared to be shell-shocked and disoriented.
Jack handed him a glass of water and asked, not unkindly: "Sir, what were you thinking?"
The man sighed. "I don't know. It all seems so unreal now. I was just tired. So utterly tired." He sipped his water. "I know you supposed that they drove me to it, but it wasn't like that. I've got good kids, and nice grandkids. And my sister has always been so kind to me. . . . I didn't want to hurt them."
Danny shifted in his seat. Something about the old man and his tone touched a raw nerve.
"I can tell you what I wasn't thinking about: I wasn't thinking that FBI will be looking for me. Or anyone else for that matter. I thought I was setting them all free, and myself, as well."
His hands shook a little, but it was hard to tell if this was a natural manifestation of his age or something brought on by emotion.
"Elsa and I were so happy there. I kept thinking back to that place, and how sky was so bright - almost white, you know - not gray like it gets in New York. . . . I thought I managed it all so well. Most of my money is all settled between them. And I did say good-bye. I did. Not in so many words, but I talked to all of them. They just didn't know I was saying good-bye. I didn't want them to panic, or worry, or try to do anything. I thought it'll be like a suicide, only far less messy, and I wouldn't have to die just yet, and they wouldn't have to bury me. I am really sorry."
"Sir, why didn't you just tell them that you wanted to move to Wildwood? It's your prerogative. No one would have stopped you. Why fake disappearance?"
"I couldn't tell them! All my life I kept teaching them that you don't give up. That you don't shirk your responsibilities. That a family is sacred. . . . After a lifetime of that, how could I have told them that all I wanted now was to be alone and free of obligations? I didn't stop loving them, I didn't want them to be disappointed. I just wanted to disappear as seamlessly as possible. . . ."
"But you couldn't have failed to realize that they'd be looking for you, right?"
"As naive as it sounds, I didn't. I thought - and I can see how it was just wishful thinking on my part - that they would accept that I'm gone, and that'll be that."
"Sir, they thought, not unnaturally, that something terrible happened to you. They checked the hospitals and the morgues. And they called the police. And they called us. How could you not have expected that? Your family loves you. And even if they didn't, I don't see how they could have let you just quietly disappear. . . . As cumbersome as those bonds can feel sometimes, they are there, and they can't be shed at will. Especially by you, because you took the time and effort to cultivate them."
"I know, agent Malone, I know all that. And I wish to goodness I was thinking rationally before. . . . Do you think they'd hate me now?"
Jack smiled: "I don't think they will. People, especially people who love you, have infinite capacity for forgiveness and understanding. . . . Of course, you are going to have to grovel."
Something akin to a smile graced the old man's face. "I suppose you're right. So, what happens now?"
"Well, now we have to sign a lot of papers. You have cost the environment quite a forest, Mr. Markham, but I suppose the humanity can let this one slide, considering your hitherto excellent conduct."
"I meant, where do I go from here?"
"You go wherever you want. As Kevin Markham, not the nonexistent person you've tried to become. My advice? Talk to your family and go back to Wildwood. You've earned a retirement."
"Won't I be prosecuted? For false papers and such?"
"You may be charged, but I believe they'll let you go with fines, and that can all be settled our of court. The biggest damage you caused is to yourself and to yours."
Jack turned to Danny: "Are you up for some paperwork?"
Danny, trying to control his breathing and checking his watch, shook his head.
"Jack, if it's all the same, I'd be back tomorrow. Tomorrow's Sunday, I'll sit here all day if I have to and do all the paperwork you'll see fit to put on my desk. Right now, I've got to run! I have a train to catch! A 1:34 out of Penn Station."
"Going somewhere?"
"Not if I can help it."
