Stand By Me

Chapter Seven

"Am I a bitch?"

Micaela's question, crackling over the phone from Switzerland, caused Amy to raise her eyes from her work, staring blankly at the wall of the cheap hotel for long moments as she considered the answer to that question. Micaela was acting strangely. First she calls and snapped about how she hated Amy's psychotic chipperness.

Then she wonders if she's a bitch?

Needless to say, Amy was just slightly baffled; however, baffled Amy still had her sense of humor and, with a mocking sigh, she said, "Sorry, but that was too easy even for me."

"I'm being serious Amy."

"Yeah…" Amy studied her work, setting down her marker and leaning back in her chair, propping bare legs up on the table before her. "Yeah, well, so am I. I'm not gonna sit here and say you're an innocent sweetie when you know better. we both know how nasty you can be, don't we?"

"Yeah, but—" A pregnant pause, a hesitation for several long seconds before her voice returned. "I mean, I don't usually say anything too bad, right? I never said anything to you, right? Nothing too… painful?"

Okay, the weirdness was continuing here. "Would I be talking to you if you had, Micaela?" Yeah, sharp, but for some reason, this weirdness was getting on Amy's nerves. "Micaela, what happened to make you go all self-pity?"

"I-I said something, Amy… God, Amy… God, Amy… I can't believe I said it… I mean, I know, at least a bit, what he's going through and…"

Okay, now Amy was beginning to fret. That was actual guilt in Micaela Kincaide's voice, actual fucking guilt. "Micaela, explain first and then mope… I don't understand… Could I have some help here please?"

An explosive sigh and then the sound of a pillow being beaten by an angry young business woman who was having a bit of a crack-up in Switzerland. "Chandler. JR Chandler? I threw his dead son in his face to piss him off—"

The marker she had just picked back up dropped to the table with a clatter as her eyes widened in shock. She must have looked rather stupid staring at her wall like it was a kind of monster. "Micaela… tell me you didn't—"

"I did, I did and all I can do is sit here and feel sorry for myself. It's disgusting, feeling sorry for myself, I mean, he ran out of here like a nut, what if, god forbid, what if he drove off some cliff?" she shrieked and Amy leaned back forward, resting her head in her hands and wishing that Micaela would, for once, think before she talked when she was acting pissy.

"Why doesn't she just get herself an apartment?"

Maggie looked up from her textbooks, thankfully accepting the drink Jonathon offered, and, leaning back, she winced at the pop that greeted her movement. He grinned to himself but went back to the bags of groceries, sorting them out and setting aside a small pile of the cold stuff to be put away.

"Have you not moved at all since I left this morning?"

Her answer was another wince as, taking a deep breath, she stretched in her seat, and her body answered with sounds that seemed to belong on some horror movie soundtrack. Relaxing, she ran fingers through her hair and regarded him with warm eyes and a grin of amusement at the sight of the obsessive cleaner of the two. "Well, what can I say, biochemistry is just so dang fascinating these days!"

He set aside a box of cereal to the side before hauling the other pile into the kitchen and opened up the fridge, beginning to pop in items easily, each item going straight to its spot with a single glance of dark eyes to check it was right. Only then, with everything put away, did he approach her, tugging off his jacket before dropping onto the couch with a sigh.

"Seriously, is she some whack job out to massacre little old couples? Because, see, I can't I really see someone her age wanting an old couple hanging over her, whining for rent on a monthly basis." He looked over, arched an eyebrow. "I don't get it, Mags. Could you please explain?"

"Amy is hard to explain." Shutting her books, she set them on the table and then flopped back, stretching out her legs and bare toes, and twisted back open the bottle of chilled soda that he'd grabbed for her, taking a swig. "I mean, when I first met her I thought that there was something really wrong with her and Frankie kept saying that she was sure that Amy was a space alien and Amy just ran around with her own little style."

"Is there something wrong with her? Should I fear a probe and a Mother Ship?"

Maggie choked on her next swallow at that, coughing and he immediately gave her a thump or two to the back, looking both amused and ashamed as he watched her deal with the drink for a moment or two. "Sorry."

She just shook her head, reaching out to set a hand on his thigh, wonderfully warm through the fabric of his jeans. Enjoying that heat and enjoying how that heat would respond to her touch, she left her hand there, thinking over her words carefully. "Amy's uncle wasn't exactly a model of male behavior, Jonathon. He was a real mean drunk and she wound up getting stuck with him when her mom died."

"Was Mommy a real mean drunk too?" His voice sounded mellow but she wasn't fooled and she tightened her fingers into his thigh, looking over and leaning closer in the same movement, studying his still face. "I can't be sure because I never knew her but Amy always said she was wonderful. She raised Amy for years before she died and then Owen got her."

"She didn't have a father?"

"She doesn't know." At his look, she rolled her eyes, tapping the plastic bottle against her knee. "Well, of course, she has a father, you know, that's how it all works. What I mean is, she never knew him. He came in, knocked up her Mom and then ran off… apparently, he was a real charmer and she fell for him pretty hard."

"Did she even know a name?"

Maggie stretched out, settling into his lap and felt his fingertips brush her temples, and she thought back, unwillingly, to softer hands with a gentler strength to them that had eased her a few days before. She closed her eyes, sighing. "Her mom did but she was one of those people who wanted to tell her daughter when she got older. I don't think she expected to get nailed by a drunk in a Chevy after she finished her shift at the pancake house… you know how it goes."

"Don't I ever." His touch continued, trailing back and through her hair and she continued to focus of her other memories, enjoying how easy it was to change the little things that felt wrong. "So she doesn't know anything?"

"Nothing," Maggie murmured, feeling hands run over her collarbone and back, rubbing slowly. "It's like some curse on us, I swear. All three of us get raised by drunks, Amy's mom gets killed by a drunk unlucky enough to wind up with keys and, hey, let's not forget your stellar mommy."

"Yeah… let's not forget about her." The fingers stopped their movements and she forced her eyes open, feeling him lean back on the couch. The muscles in his legs were tighter now and she rolled onto her back, scooting slightly to peer up at him, where he sat, rubbing his face. "I wasn't going to bring it up for a few days but maybe I should now."

"What?" she asked in concern, attempting to work herself out of her relaxed daze.

"My sister's coming into town next week."

"Really?" She surprised herself with the sudden excitement she felt and she seemed to surprise him even more since he looked down in interest, raising eyebrows at her girlish grin. "What? Is there some secret girl club that I should know about?"

She grinned even more broadly and then sat up, wrapping arms around his neck as she did, beaming. "No, no… you've just told me so much about her, you know? I have all these great images of you and her, running around as kids." Jonathon smiled slightly, continuing to study her as she ran hands up his chest. "You must be so happy."

'I am… but, um, that's one of the problems." He hesitated, watched her hands slow and then still, stopping on his shoulders and her warm eyes grow questioning. "I know that it might sound crazy but she's just here for a nice vacation, away from people who want to bug the hell out of her. So, Ryan can't know."

Maggie stared for long moments, processing that before she leaned back slightly, frowning. "Right… why?"

"Erin… you know my sister is really, really independent you know and she doesn't really like Ryan all that much."

"But he's her brother," she muttered, and frowned even more. Jonathon would walk across hot coals for Ryan, would take a bullet for him and she didn't even want to see him? Okay, slight weirdness there. "Wouldn't she want to see him? He probably wants to see her."

"I remember Ryan before he left, you know. I have a lot of good memories with him but Erin was younger and she can barely remember him at all." He sighed, rubbing her back, and she sat patiently. "She doesn't think he loves us and she's really hurt over it. She thinks he abandoned us."

"Oh." Maggie understood that, in some way but still… a knot of something painful had settled in her stomach and now it twisted painfully, bringing up memories of sneaking out and leaving Frankie's form sleeping in their bedroom, not realizing she was leaving her forever. "Maybe she doesn't get it, you know? I mean, sometimes, you have to survive… you have to get out and keep yourself alive."

"Yeah, yeah." He cleared his throat, and his voice was still rough when he continued. "well, she's still sensitive about it so I'd really, really appreciate it if you just didn't tell Ryan. I mean, I'm not asking you to lie, not—not after what I did to Miranda's shirt but… I highly doubt that he'll come up to you and ask if my sister's in town. I just really don't want anyone going up to him and going, 'hey, your sister's in town… want to go see her?'"

"Oh." Okay, she got that…besides, her connection with Ryan really only went through Jonathon and Ryan was busy with Greenlee and Kendall now anyway. And then another thought hit her. "Wait, won't he recognize her if he bumps into her? I mean, she is his sister."

"He hasn't seen her in years, Maggie. She's grown a lot in the past years and she's an adult. He hasn't seen her since she was knee level to him. Believe me, if he bangs into her he won't even know her." He peered at her, smiled slightly. "I'm sorry to do this but she begged me and… I can't deny her, Maggie, I love her too much."

"I know." She kissed him, a brush of lips and he chuckled slightly. "I know and I get that." Another kiss, harder this time, pulling away to grin and murmur, "I promise" before dipping back in to press herself up closer and tighten her hold on him, feeling his hands, on her hips, slide back and up beneath her top.

Fingers slid between skin and the straps of her bra and she grinned against his mouth, closing her eyes and ignoring how much she wanted to smell Bianca's new lotion instead of his aftershave… not what she wanted but enough… enough for both of them right now…

When a hand rapped hard against the door, Jonathon simply groaned, a defeated noise of annoyance that reminded her of a child losing its favorite toy. "Sorry," she purred, and climbed off his lap, tugging and smoothing her shirt before heading to the door, grinning at his pout.

Halfway there, the knocking started again, louder than before and she sighed, increasing her speed as she yelled, "Hold your horses!" Pausing, she opened the door and blinked twice, having a single second to absorb the sight of an agitated looking Bianca before the brunette rushed in, a fussy looking Miranda on her hip.

And the weirdness continues!

Jonathon, from his place on the couch, stared at the figure, eyes wide before he noticed Maggie's furious hand motions and he jumped up, clearing his throat as he smoothed his own shirt. Bianca glanced at him, blinked before, with an agitated noise, she turned her attention back to Maggie.

"I've been trying to call you." There was something off in her eyes and Maggie remembered that she was holding open the door like a big dork. Shaking herself, she closed it, locking it before taking a few steps forward to the single mother, noticing, as she did, the frazzled state of the woman.

With Miranda on one hip and a massive diaper bag hanging from the opposite shoulder, she stood there, with little Miranda bundled up and in a loose jacket of her own; dark hair was sticking up from its once-tight ponytail and, even as Maggie watched, Miranda reached up and began yanking savagely on her mother's necklace, fussing.

The third try, even as Bianca attempted to get her to stop, Miranda achieved her apparent purpose in life; it snapped and blue and green beads exploded into the air, scattering across the floor. It took about ten seconds for beads to completely decorate the apartment she shared with Jonathon.

For a second or two, Miranda looked down at the accomplishment with wide dark eyes; looking back up at her mother's bare neck and blinked. And then she threw back her head and she started screaming, the harsh shrieks of an angry child who'd lost her favorite toy.

And Maggie caught the way Bianca's lip began to ever so slightly quiver and the way her eyes started filling with tears as she began to jiggle Miranda more desperately. She was, in essence, about to completely crack and Maggie saw it as clear as day. And she took full charge; anyone watching probably would have expected the 'Patton' theme to begin playing at any second.

Jonathon just continued to stare at Miranda like she was some little beast and, listening to the sound of her shrieks, Maggie couldn't really blame him. Darting forward, she grabbed Jon, looked him in the eye, blinked and chirped, "Can I have some time alone? With Bianca and Miranda?"

"Yeah." Looking like he was in pain, he leaned forward, kissed her happily before, with a nod, he went past her, grabbing up his jacket as he went and opened the door, stopping just long to tell Maggie he loved her once more before he fled from the child who was losing it in Bianca's arms.

Spinning back, Maggie crossed the room and, plucking Miranda from her mother's arms, she settled her on her own hip; the change of pace startled the girl into silence and she peered around with her wet face, sniffling as she held on to Maggie's top with drool-covered fingers. "Sit," she snapped at Bianca and the other woman meekly obeyed, folding her legs as she settled on the couch, staring down at the floor.

Balancing Miranda on her hip, she leaned forward, caught the strap that lay loose from Bianca's shoulder and dragged the bag off her, turning and then setting it on the table; getting a strange amount of glee from the small noise of awe she heard from around breast-level, she stalked into the bedroom, opening the closet door and moving aside her dress and Jonathon's shirts to grab the cardboard box in the back.

She kicked off her shoes and, with a grunt, she pulled it out, bending with the weight and, with a guttural "hah!" she dragged it with her back to the living room, careful not to fall on her ass as she went. Who knew all those years of dragging her unconscious mother into the house from the porch would so useful?

She found Bianca staring at her silently, mouth shaped into a small O and her eyes wide as she watched Maggie shove the box towards her with a grin. She looked at the box, frowned, and looked back up at Maggie with clear bafflement, not getting the box or Maggie's silent order.

Ok, time to give some not-so-silent orders. She shoved the box forward a bit more with a foot, sighing. "Open the box. Remove the parts. Spread out the directions. Read the directions. Assemble the object and then we can talk. Need the directions again?"

Bianca, staring at the box, finally got what it was, staring at the picture of the easy to assemble play pen and then she stared up at the calm and collected blonde who stood, not caring at the way Miranda was currently eating her shirt and growling like some savage little beast as she did. "This is…"

"Your birthday present," Maggie finished and sighed, feeling slightly annoyed that it was out in front of her. "It might sound stupid but I remembered back when we were shopping for Miranda's stuff when she was still a little blotch on a picture and you said that you wanted this one the most."

"I remember," Bianca murmured, eyes latched onto the box at her feet, and Maggie squirmed nervously, not liking the intensity there.

"Well, make yourself useful, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah… of course, give me a second."

It ended up taking even the overly-stressed Bianca less than ten minutes to fit it all together and, setting it in the only spot they could find, Maggie put the child in, where she watched them warily for a moment before turning her attention to the two or three toys Bianca had brought with her. In about three seconds, she was completely content.

Not too worried about the large drool spot on her top, Maggie turned to the couch, finding Bianca sitting there, head in her hands and looking like a puppet with her strings cut. Ignoring the immediate flutter in middle parts, she took a seat on the couch, careful not to sit too close. "I thought that her grandma Erica was taking up too much of her time."

"No. Mom can't… she's too busy losing her mind."

"What?" Okay, sure, not the most brilliant answer but really!

"My mother, Erica Kane?" Sighing, Bianca raised her head, staring at Maggie with eyes that bore large bags. "My mother has apparently suffered a mental breakdown… she is talking in her own little language because she suffered a mental breakdown caused by the shocking discover of her daughter's marriage to Zach Slater."

Bianca was gay… "Oh my God, Bianca!"

Miranda glanced up at the shriek for a moment before going back to her toys, not all that bothered by Maggie's shock and more fascinated by her own bright, colorful new stuff.

Bianca, however, simply gave Maggie a pitiful look, replying, "Yes… Kendall ran off to Vegas with Zach and married him and then Mom found out and she lost it and… everything blew up and Mom is now insane but I don't think she's really insane and neither does Uncle Jack… we both think she's faking it. And then Uncle Jack muttered something really frightening about how Mom had never had to fake him before and she wouldn't start now but I really don't want to think about that right now."

"Oh." She seemed to be saying "oh" a lot today, didn't she? Still, as long as it got the point across… "Bianca… what does Kendall say about all this?"

"I don't know," Bianca murmured quietly. "She doesn't want to talk to me, she's mad at me because we had a fight."

"You had a fight?"

"Mm-hmm… big one… it was like Hiroshima… just… bigger." Bianca continued to sit there, staring down at her hands and it was truly sad. Yet, she found she couldn't just reach out and hold her like she used to. There was a big block now, something heavy and painful where they had once stayed together in their beautiful connection. Something was missing and something was blocked and it really sucked…

"Sorry about your fight with Kendall…"

"Yeah…"

There it was… they had had a few seconds of something and now it was gone again and it really, really hurt. Maggie stared at Bianca, and watched, silently, as Bianca stared back, and she wished she'd look away… "Maggie… um…"

"What?"

"Your lipstick… it's smudged a little bit. Jonathon smudges your lipstick."

"Oh." She stood up, hesitated for a moment and, then left Bianca sitting there, her eyes on Miranda. Fleeing to the bathroom, she locked the door behind her, studying her reflection in the mirror, studying the smudge marks Jonathon had left, the slightest mistake on her lips… like Jonathon.

She hated moments of clarity. She hated the one she'd had in the Florida hotel, realizing that she'd left her Frankie alone with mom without a second thought. And she hated that moment of clarity on the road towards Pennsylvania, realizing that if Bianca could be with Babe like that she didn't really love her. And she hated this moment when she decided that she tired of hurting over Bianca.

That was all she did these days, hurt over Bianca, moon over Bianca and dream about Bianca and think, like some idiot, that Bianca sometimes looked at her with something other than friendship in those big brown eyes. Stepping away from the mirror, she lowered herself to the ground, crossing her legs and listening to the muffled noises of Miranda babbling to her toys.

Bianca had come to her for help with Miranda; she had come to her… that meant something, didn't it? No, not really… Erica and Jack were off dealing with things and Kendall was playing wife. She'd had no one else to come to for help. No one but Maggie. Yeah, once again, she was there when there was no one else.

Babe wasn't really all that nice after all and, hey, look, there's poor, love-sick Mags, still crazy about me, almost willing to streak naked through the Chandler mansion to get my attention… maybe I should throw her a bone?

Maggie sighed, trying to fight down the sudden shudder of irritation. That was absurd but still, the thought caused a painful wrench inside her, the same kind of gutting that she'd felt when Amy had smacked her in the head with that hots-for-Binks line… she'd done it again…

With a sudden surge of strength, she pulled herself up, facing her reflection in the mirror, fearlessly. Okay, she had been right the first time around. Jonathon didn't ask her for anything else, nothing other than what she was willing to give. He helped her forget and she did the same… he'd told her as much that night, lying at her side, panting…

She helped him forget fists and alcohol and screaming and what it felt like to have to hide in a closet for a day because he couldn't take the chance of going outside where that man could find him… and he helped her forget big brown eyes and how blonde and dark hair had looked mingling on that bed and how much it hurt to find out that Bianca had ripped her heart to shreds for Babe's sake…

It was sick and it was wrong and it was so, so twisted but it was all they had because they couldn't fit in like the others who didn't need to forget…

Maggie swallowed, closing her eyes for a moment and coming to a decision that had been shifting through her mind since she'd felt Amy's arms around her in the car. She was right and she couldn't do this anymore… it just hurt too much and she didn't know how much more she could take.

By the time she went out with her lipstick fixed and her hair tamed, she was offering Bianca a large smile and a hand to hold as she comforted her on her Kendall-less days and how soon they'd make up and bond again. And she waited for Jonathon to come home because he could make this all easier to take.

Amy Cohen was a heavy sleeper and always had been and most likely always would be. However, she found herself awakened very suddenly with absolutely no idea of what had woken her. She laid there, eyes open, listening, knowing instinctually that it had been something she'd heard that had woken her.

And then she heard it again, a sound that sounded way too much like a footstep… and then another and she waited, violently hating how cheap locks tended to be in cheap hotels. Yeah, it made sense but it still irritated her at the moment.

When something hit the bed, hard, she screamed, twisted, and felt a hand grab at her middle. Throwing herself forward and hitting the floor, she felt pain in her arm from how hard her elbow hit the floor. Damn it… she had to start sleeping with a nightlight so that she could see when maniacs came after her… scrambling and staggering to her feet, she bolted, felt the hands grab again at her, snagging her slacks and yanking.

An hour later, she'd wonder at how calm she'd been while attempting to get away from the someone who'd broken into her hotel room. Maggie would comment that maybe it had been adrenaline or maybe Amy just handled stress and terror well. Amy, in a blanket and sipping bad hospital coffee, would comment that she was just glad she had screamed as loud as she had.

She went down hard, grunting at the force of hitting the floor the way she did… she heard the crash of the someone who'd grabbed her when they hit the table she'd moved earlier to check ads… a hand grabbed her and she screamed again when she felt a hand grab onto her leg, yanking hard.

She twisted, continuing to scream, not even giving a care about how bad she probably sounded and starting kicking out, feet striking skin and muscle and she kicked even harder, and the next one got the point across… even in her state, she heard the grunt of real pain and then the crash of him hitting that table again.

Survival instincts got her on her feet and towards the door, hitting it hard and hands scrambling at the bolt that had been shut after he had come in, tearing at metal and she got it open, throwing herself out and streaking out into light and into a small crowd that had been approaching the hotel room.

Hands caught her, held her steady as she screamed again, mostly just to scream and get the point across…