(Author's note: All right! Chapter 11 is here! Woot!
There are a few things I have to discuss, but before I do that . . .
Thank's go to GoldAngel2 for beta reading this chapter and for reviewing my last one. Thank's also go to Wolfwood11, Strata and Kris Ice for reviewing chapter 10. So: Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!
Okay, some things I have to talk about. Firstly, borrowing a little bit from Dave Barry here, the characters in this story are adults and, as adults, some times they think or say things that aren't exactly child friendly. It's not really all that bad (in my opinion) but I figure that you'd appreciate a warning that some things of an adult nature going to be alluded to.
Also, while I was tempted to be . . . evil with this chapter, I decided not to be. As fun as that could have been, I didn't put all the work into writing 10 chapters just to have it turn into another Jet bashing/ humiliation type story. So, no fuzzy handcuffs. ;}
And, for anyone who's clamoring for a Jet pov chapter, don't worry, there'll be one soon. Promise :)
Well, that's it. Here's hoping you enjoy chapter 11! )
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So, this was it. Cathy stood in front of Jet's apartment but made no move to open the door. Despite her earlier ease when she'd talked to Jet, she was less than anxious to go poking around through his things. Partly because she didn't feel comfortable about the idea that she was going to be violating his privacy - Jet's grudging permission notwithstanding, she knew that he didn't really want her to be there. She wasn't sure why, but she was sure he had his reasons.
But mostly, she hesitated because . . . Jet was a single man living on his own. In her experience, men were pigs - especially men Jet's age. She remembered only too well that time when Maria had roped her into helping her 20 year-old son move into a new apartment; she'd never seen so many sticky magazines in her whole life. And that had been the least of it -
She shook her head, trying not to think about the other stuff she'd found. Besides, she wasn't going to be looking anywhere except for Jet's dresser and, if she did happen to find something like that just lying around somewhere . . . Well, she and Jet would have to have a long talk before she let Jimmy hang out here again.
Opening the door and stepping inside, the first thing she noticed was that the light was on. She wondered why before realizing that he'd probably had been in a rush to leave the night before. Since the sun shining through the windows was more than enough to see by, she clicked off the lights (as she doubted he could well afford paying for electricity that he wasn't using) and looked around.
Compared to her own apartment, this one was pretty small; there were only two doors (bedroom and bathroom, she assumed) and the kitchen was less its own room than a part of the livingroom. There were some dirty dishes in the sink and some food wrappers on the couch but, considering what she'd been expecting, the place was actually pretty clean. And, to her relief, there didn't seem to be anything . . . questionable lying around.
Which was definitely a good thing because she didn't even want to think about having that conversation with Jet.
There was one thing that did strike her as odd as she made her way over to one of the doors. From the look of things, there wasn't anything, in the livingroom at least, that looked like it didn't come with the apartment. The walls were completely bare - there weren't even any posters - and there weren't any sort of personalized touches anywhere. Maybe she was reading more into it than there was, but she got the feeling that, whatever this place was to Jet, it was less of a home and more of a place to live for a while.
Then again, she didn't know how long he'd been living here. If he'd moved in around the same time he'd started hanging around Jimmy, he probably hadn't had the time, or the money (seeing as he had no job) to make the place homey. There was also the possibility that he was too much of a man to care about that sort of thing. Either way, it seemed very . . . lonely.
The door she opened turned out to be for the bedroom. This had been more what she'd been expecting. The bed was unmade; there were some clothes on the floor; and there were several empty cans of soda on the bedside table. Stepping over a shirt, she walked over to the dresser. She'd been about to open the first drawer when she noticed a face down picture frame resting on the dresser top.
Cathy picked it up and turned it over so she could see the picture inside. It was a picture of a group of people standing on a beach, their backs to the sea. All of them wore gleaming black boots, red suits with big yellow buttons and waving yellow scarves. Looking closer, she saw that Jet was standing with them. He was wearing the same - she could only call it a uniform - and he was staring directly into the camera with an unamused look on his face, as if there was somewhere else he'd rather be.
She smiled. That seemed like the Jet she liked and was coming to know! She turned her attention back to the others standing there. Those must be his friends. His cyborg friends. It was strange; there wasn't really anything about any of them that cried to her: "Hey! I'm a cyborg!" She supposed that it was silly of her to expect there to be - she had no idea that Jet was a cyborg until she'd seen the damage to his leg.
Cocking her head, she realized that there was something odd about at least one of them. The silver haired man had something wrong with his eyes. The picture was too grainy for her to tell what that was, but there was something. Still, nothing that she'd pay all that much attention to if she'd passed him on the street.
She set the picture back down on the dresser. So that was Jet's family; she could tell by the way they stood together that more connected them than matching uniforms. Besides, seeing as this was the only picture that she'd seen in the whole apartment, she figured that these people had to be pretty important to Jet for him to have their picture.
Opening the first drawer, she stopped short. Inside was a bundle of red cloth wrapped with a yellow scarf, a pair of long black boots and what could only be a weapon. While it looked an awful lot like the ray guns that she'd seem in Jimmy's comics, this didn't look like a toy. This looked deadly and she didn't even like looking at it. At least now she knew one reason why Jet hadn't wanted her rooting through his dresser. He hadn't wanted her to see his uniform and his gun.
She closed the drawer and opened the one below it. This one held clothes and she grabbed a pillow case off of Jet's bed and started loading it up. Cathy realized as she did so that she'd forgotten to ask him about that phone call earlier - she still didn't know how long he was planning to stay! It wasn't like her to be so distracted and she was starting to feel annoyed with herself. Jet had this way of making her forget what she wanted to say, no doubt about it.
Opening the bottom drawer (because she hadn't seen anything resembling pajamas in the one above it), Cathy found another reason why Jet hadn't wanted her poking through his dra - well, considering what she'd found, she didn't want to finish that thought. Men really were pigs, weren't they?
Now that isn't fair, she chastised herself. He could have bought it to read the articles (1). Right. Because, those were some pretty interesting articles, yes sir. She laughed out loud and shook her head. At least one thing was for certain; there was no doubt that Jet was a man through and through.
Still chuckling, she closed the drawer and looked into the pillow case. Enough clothes for a few days at least. She hadn't found any night clothes, but she figured that, if he wanted them, she had Daniel's to lend him. They were about the same build (although Daniel was a little shorter and a little stockier than Jet). Now that she was thinking about it, she realized that she probably could have lent Jet all of Daniel's clothes while he was here.
After thinking about it for a few moments, she decided that Jet probably wouldn't have been comfortable wearing her husband's things. If she'd been in his shoes, she didn't think that she'd be. She just hoped that she wouldn't have to ruin any of his pants to make room for that leg wound. Well, maybe she could make cut offs using Daniel's if it came to that . . .
Cathy supposed that it was a good thing that she never got around to bringing his clothes to the Salvation Army like she'd been planning to. They certainly would come in useful now, wouldn't they? Considering the way he left, she didn't feel the least bit guilty at the prospect of cutting up Daniel's clothes - well, maybe a little guilty. After all, it'd been more than plain old not having enough time that stopped her from giving those clothes away in the first place.
Partly it'd been because she hadn't wanted a confrontation when he finally came back for them. Mostly, it'd been the hope that he'd come back for more than the clothes. The same hope that made her wake up every morning surprised that he was not there. She closed her eyes and opened them with a sigh.
She looked down at her watch and tried not to think about it anymore. Looked like she'd lingered here for too long already. It was really about time that she got back. Jet had to be finished eating by now and it wasn't as if there was much reason to stick around much longer. She had everything she'd come for.
Slinging the pillow case over her shoulder, she started to make her way out of the apartment. She'd almost locked the door behind her, out of habit, before her common sense took over; if Jet hadn't bothered shutting off the lights when he'd left last night, she doubted that he'd have taken the time to make sure that he had his key. The last thing she wanted to do was lock him out of his own apartment!
As she walked down the stairs back to her floor, she realized that she'd have quite the problem on her hands once she got there. She'd been putting off thinking about it, preferring to burn her bridges when she got to them, but she knew now that there would be no more avoiding it. Somehow, she had to find a way of getting Jet clean that wouldn't completely mortify the boy. Judging by the look he'd had on his face when she'd been talking to him about changing his clothes . . . well, she didn't think that he'd take the suggestion of a bath very well at all.
It'd have to be a bath too. A few swipes with a wash cloth wouldn't come close to getting him clean and a shower was completely out of the question. Standing wouldn't be much fun on that leg of his! She figured that, as long as she made sure that his knee was wrapped up water tight, there wouldn't be any danger in submerging it in the tub.
Still, even if she knew nothing else about him, she'd still know that he was a stubborn and independent young man; she knew that he probably wouldn't want or welcome her help with something like this. But she could be pretty stubborn herself and she wasn't about to let him get away with something stupid just so he could avoid being embarrassed. Besides, it wasn't like she'd actually have to be in there with him. Once she'd helped him into the tub, he could take care of the rest of it himself - there was nothing wrong with his arms!
Somehow, she doubted that that would be much of a comfort to him.
Jet wouldn't make this easy for her; she was sure of that much. Of course, it wouldn't be all that easy for her even if he was completely cooperative. It'd only been two weeks since Daniel had left - she wasn't exactly looking forward to being around a naked man. Cathy wasn't feeling particularly . . . needy, but it'd still serve as a reminder of at least one of the things she was missing even if the man in question wasn't the man she loved.
Arriving at her door, she tried to shake off her suddenly melancholy mood. She knew what would happen if she didn't: she'd get depressed and then she'd wish that Daniel would come back and then she'd get angry at herself for wishing that and then she'd take that anger out on the next convenient target who, in this case, would be Jet.
She wasn't going to let herself do that to him any more if she could avoid it.
Through the door, she could hear the sound of the TV; he must have found the remote. She didn't remember seeing it on the table but it must have been there - she doubted that he'd have been able to go looking for -
She frowned at herself as she realized what she was doing: stalling, pure and simple. Sure, she was certain that Jet was going to be difficult about the bathing thing, but that was no excuse for her, a grown woman, to be standing around in front of the door to her own home just to avoid talking to him about it!
Not giving herself any more time to hesitate, she opened the door and stepped inside her apartment. From where she came in, she could see that the news was on and, as she came around to the side of the couch, she could see the bored expression on Jet's face.
Well, he won't be bored for much longer, a slightly evil voice inside her chuckled. Cathy did her best to ignore it as she spoke.
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(1) This refers to that joke that some guys buy Playboy to read the articles. Rather than to look at the pictures.
(Looks like I can't use shift 8 stars anymore - ff.net took them out the first time I uploaded this chapter. I'm sad now. )