Disclaimer - I do not own anything even remotely related to The Mighty Ducks. I only wish I had thought of them first…
I also do not own anything having to do with The Thief of Always. Clive Barker is a genius and is given full credit for the line reprinted here. I hope he won't mind the first sentence of his wonderful book quoted here.
Italics indicate character thought.
Charlie and Adam embraced in a tight hug before Charlie pulled away, grimacing. "Jesus, Banks. You smell."
Adam smiled at him warily, backing up but keeping his hand on his friends shoulder. "That's what happens when you rush to the airport right after a game. I wasn't too worried about the soap thing, you know?"
Charlie nodded, remembering his own frantic rush to catch a plane. "I sweet talked one of the nurses into letting me use their staff shower earlier. Want me to give it a try for you?"
"Yeah. That'd be good." He looked around the quiet waiting room, squinting out the window at the sun as it was slowly rising over the Toronto horizon. "How is he?"
Charlie sighed, looking down at his cell phone as it buzzed on his hip. He wasn't supposed to use it in here and it recognized the number as Averman's. Less had said he would call when they got into town. "No change, really. Still out." They both looked over his shoulder towards the dimly lit hallway. "Beau is in with him now."
Beau was a literature nut. Not really that surprising, what with her being a writer, but it was true nonetheless. Living with the boys she had always made it her mission to get the rest of them to read more. Guy had not been a problem. Citing his angst ridden high school existence, he had already been an avid reader of books with a focus on social commentary and, not surprisingly, angst. The very first time she had ever seen him reading something, it had been American Skin by Don De Grazia. Talk about the quintessential story of a teen trying to fit in.
Cole, though, had been a different story. He wasn't someone who read because he wanted to. He read when he had to, and even then he often skimmed or just borrowed the notes from a classmate. "Give me math or science any day," was his motto. "Words. Bleck." It was one of his favorite ways to tease Beau.
The teasing, of course, had just made Beau more determined to get him reading. She had started by leaving books in his room, hoping they would intrigue him enough that he would pick them up and at least give them a shot. Her hope was that he would get so hooked he wouldn't be able to put the novels down. Fat chance. Every single time she would find the book back in her room the following day with a post-it note attached to the front. "I think this is yours. Quit leaving your books in my room, nag."
Her last ditch effort had been just that – an epic effort. She knew when she did it that she was going overboard, but Beau didn't care. It wasn't about Cole liking reading anymore. It was about her winning…and him losing. Beau had been absolutely sure that Cole would like the book The Thief of Always by Clive Barker. So late one night, when the rest of her roommates were out of town, Beau sat down in front of a tape recorder and read the first two chapters of the book aloud. She undulated her voice to match the tone of the words. She played music in the background. And, most importantly, she did different voices for every character.
Later that weekend, when Cole got home, she waited until he was in his room and then pushed play on the tape recorder, left it sitting just inside his door, and smirked in his direction before walking off down the hall. Fifteen minutes later Cole had stalked into the living room, hands on his hips, glaring in Beau's direction. "God, Beau. If you're going to go to that much trouble just to get me to read a damn book, I guess I can give it a try." Smiling sweetly, Beau had produced the book and thrown it at him. Cole stalked back to his room, slamming the door ceremoniously. Beau knew in her heart that he had been smiling when he had done it.
Now, all these years later, she was sitting at his bedside watching the very slow rise and fall of his chest, making sure for the one millionth time that he was still breathing. He was. She let her tired eyes slide up his chest and to the tube that was coming out of his mouth. His eyes were closed and she so desperately wanted to see him open them so that she could think, in the back of her mind, how very blue they were. His usually wild blond hair was heavy and matted down, the curls verging more on the world of tangles. He almost didn't even look like Cole.
Heaving a big sigh at that thought, Beau swallowed hard against the threatening tears and opened the book on her lap. She had been halfway out the door to the airport when something had made her turn around and go back. Right there on her bookshelf, staring out at her, had been The Thief of Always.
She was gazing down at the first page, feeling silly now for brining it. It was a kid's book, really, but Cole had read it. He had even said he liked it. And then he had asked her to find him another book to read when he went on spring break. Smiling a little, Beau cleared her throat and looked at her friend. She put on the narrator voice that she had invented back on the tape recorder.
"The Thief of Always. Chapter One: Harvey, Half-Devoured." She looked up at the bed again. "Pay attention, alright Cole? I don't do my book voices for just anyone. Usually just loyal fans, so count yourself lucky."
Crossing one leg over the other, she continued to read. "The great gray beast February had eaten Harvey Swick alive…"
It had taken some convincing, but Cole's parents had finally agreed to go to a local hotel and shower. Having a base, Charlie had argued, was important. There were enough of them at the hospital to keep an eye on things, and they would be called immediately if anything changed.
They had been gone just barely forty-five minutes before they returned and Charlie only had to look at their frantic faces to know that they had been desperately hoping for a joyous phone call. He smiled gently, squeezing Mrs. Procida's hand, giving her a look which clearly meant 'there's been no change.' "Did you sleep at all?"
She tried to smile – a pathetic little gesture – and squeezed his hand back. "I couldn't, dear, but thank you for asking." She looked around the waiting room at the boys and one girl sitting there. Charlie couldn't help but notice the confusion.
"Mrs. Procida," he looked over at her husband, who seemed utterly lost, "Mr. Procida. These are our friends. Cole's friends." He indicated a long couch where four of them were crunched together. "This is Lester Averman, Greg Goldberg, Rachel Monroe, and Fulton Reed." He pointed towards the window where several of them had been trying to muddle through a game of cards, but had long since abandoned the effort and stood to see Cole's parents. "That's Jesse Hall, Adam Banks, and Guy Germaine."
Jeff Procida shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and touched his chest briefly, looking around the room at them all. "Of course. Cole talks about you all all the time. You have no idea what you all mean to him." He put an arm gently around his wife's shoulder. "What it means to us to have you here. Thank you."
No one could really do anything but nod. It was so physically painful to see them standing there awkwardly, not sure what to say or how to feel about the fact that their son might never wake up. Guy was reminded excruciatingly of what it had been like to see Beau curled up in a ball on the floor of the hockey arena sobbing over the loss of her twin. He had to turn away to look out of the window, feeling like a coward for it.
The Procidas walked down the hall with Charlie towards Cole's ICU room. It was surrounded by glass windows and the three of them stood for a moment, watching as Beau leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and turning a page. She glanced up at Cole's still body and Charlie could see the deep breath she took to steel herself for more unanswered words. But then she smiled, raising her voice and reading in a booming tone that was clearly meant to be a villain.
Susie did not take her eyes off of the scene, but Charlie could hear the wonder in her voice. "The doctor said it was good for someone to talk to him about things like memories, experiences, his favorite television show…" she trailed off, leaning against her husband. "It's amazing that she thought to bring that book after so many years. I remember Cole laughing about it when she made that tape for him. He said that Beau was the first person he had ever met that was more stubborn than him." At the memory, something in her broke. She cried - huge, body racking sobs that seemed to shake the whole building. She only let the grief take a stronger hold when her husband tried to console her. It would be the first and only time that she cried. Procidas were strong, damn it. That's what Cole would say.
Beau looked up then and was struck dumb by the scene outside the window. Cole's mother was shaking uncontrollably and her husband looked absolutely lost. His eyes were darting around, hoping for help and knowing that there was nothing he could do to make his wife feel less torn apart. Charlie had stepped several feet away but was so moved by the moment that he was only able to drop his forehead against the glass and finally let his tears fall as well. He isn't too much of a man to cry, Beau thought. Or maybe he is just enough of a man for it. He locked his hands on the back of his head, fingers intertwined in the curly mess, and let just a few tears drip slowly from his gray eyes.
All of it was enough to have Beau's chest heaving. She didn't want to cry. Not sitting beside Cole's bed. If he woke up – when he woke up, she schooled herself – she didn't want him to remember sobs and desperation surrounding him. She wanted Cole to remember joy and friendship and love. That thought in her mind, she kept her eyes on the glass, unable to tear them away, and tried to raise the book in front of her. She couldn't read though. Everything was drawing her towards Cole's parents and the fact that they were breaking down. It was the most horrible thing she had seen in years.
But a week later, when she would think back to that moment, she wouldn't remember Susie and Jeff clinging to each other. She wouldn't remember the raw look on Charlie's face as he had finally taken a rare moment to let himself feel, instead of always worrying about someone else. She would only remember the way her heart had stopped when she heard Cole's voice behind her, gravely and weak.
"Beau?"
Joank: Glad you found it unexpected. I like the surprises!
Hockey-girl90: The end is indeed drawing near but there will be a few chapters left.
Duckfluff: Glad you're excited about the sequel. I'll see what I can do about more Adam. And no, there was no way I could kill Cole – he's my favorite!
antiIrony: Happy 17th! Hope it was GREAT!
Johnny: Thanks for the suggestion on Adam taking off without a shower. It was perfectly his personality. I appreciate the input!
Cc: Yay! I'm glad to know that this story is worth braving a crappy internet connection. That makes me feel good!
Pitaqueen: Don't worry. I think even I would have cried if I had killed Cole. He's my favorite now.
Penmen: Glad to have you back. Thanks for the kind words!
Sinbin05: Thanks. And geez…at least tell us what your dress looked like! I'm dying to know.