DISCLAIMER: Dark Angel borrowed; as always, no profits realized.
A/N: Sorry to have slowed a bit, but here's another bit to lead into a (US) 3-day holiday weekend, FFN's planned Sunday power-down, and our first post-Katrina trip to New Orleans for food and spending. Laissez le bon temps rouler encore!
Thanks to everyone reading, with an extra thank you to all who have stopped by to leave their comments. They are very much appreciated. This story was pretty well plotted out in its entirety prior to posting (at least in my head) but yet has still been shaded by some of the reactions left here! As always, all thoughts and opinions are welcome, with my thanks.
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Asylum
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"You think I'd call her before I tried it out? I didn't want to let her down – she thinks I'm an electronics wizard now. First her lamp, then this," Cale laughed, "she claims three different people told her it couldn't be fixed."
"Well, I've thought you were an electronics wizard since you souped up the gain on our dish," the other man admitted. "Of course, you could have mentioned a long time ago you could fix the reception."
Butler did all he could to focus on the voices, through the laughter and plates clattering around him, as the voice he knew so well, and that of the man with him, were being swallowed into the other sounds of the busy diner. Fixing toasters? Boosting TV reception? Is that what the great Eyes Only is doing now, playing town handyman here in 'Mayberry?' Is that what Logan Cale is 'investigating' these days? Tom recognized that his reaction was one of frustration, and that frustration at what Cale was doing with his life was not a 'neutral reporter's' reaction – but at the moment he didn't care. What a waste ... and a disappointment...
"Hey, I'm an electronics wizard, not a mind reader. You never said you were having a problem." The voice of his hero, talking about simple, homely things ... and sounding happy about it. Tom suddenly had a flash of memory from the night before – the look of peace on the man's face ... and the thought he'd himself had then, that it was well-earned, after all he'd given, all he'd done...
Focus. Just– listen. If you have to judge, damn it, do it later, not now. This conversation is an unexpected stroke of luck, a gift. Don't waste it pouting.
The sound of the two, as they were talking, spoke of a familiar, easy friendship that Tom would not have supposed Eyes Only would have had the time or freedom to develop. So maybe, despite all my study of the man, despite years of catching his hacks and reading his articles, I don't know him as well as I thought I did. Another reminder, he noted.
The men still spoke comfortably, but their voices had dropped a bit from their bantered greeting to more conversational tones, and as the noise of the restaurant ebbed and flowed around him, Tom missed much of what was being said. He heard references to a clinic and soon thereafter, a hospital; mention was made of dinner and cooking out. He could hear a bit more when Cale became enthusiastic about some property at the lake, just as the restaurant crowd was thinning out, making eavesdropping easier, diners grudgingly heading back home to yard work or home repair or an afternoon swim...
"You know it's a great house," Cale was saying, "and we've been on the lake, what, eight months now? It's perfect out there, so quiet and peaceful. And we haven't lost power or water even once. The mail is like clockwork. Besides – you can join Linda for her morning runs."
There was a soft snort. "If I could talk her into making 'morning' start more like 5:30 or 6:00, and not 4:00 a.m. Even the Navy doesn't usually start that early." There was a moment's pause, and the conceded, "We did find the owners, though..."
"Really? Do they want to sell?" Cale's voice was animated, clearly pleased, the sound of a good man to have as a friend, sincere and interested ... Tom found himself wondering about what he'd discovered here. Not the man he'd expected at all. How did this third role fit with the two he'd been investigating? And were there more personas to him, beyond this? Or is this the real man behind the mask and the by-lines...?
"I get the feeling they'd given up hope of selling it and now that they've found someone who wants it, they're trying to decide how far to jack up the price – or whether this means other buyers will be along soon, too."
"So get one of the real estate people here to give them the facts of life – I don't think anyone would tell them that was a safe gamble yet. Besides ... if that one doesn't work out, there are others..."
"Yeah, but you know how badly Sandra wants that house..."
Sandra. Tom sat up a bit straighter. Sandra, as in the principal I just met? Working with the woman who was at Cale's last night? So these four are a set? Or, rather -- he reminded himself not to assume. Were these four a set? Was this 'coincidence' the result of small town acquaintances, or did Eyes Only bring a posse with him?
... and if he did ... could it mean anything?
"Woman's got good taste." There was a moment's pause before Cale added, "I think our offer on the place next door was accepted."
"That place just to the south of yours? You made an offer on it?"
"I figure it would be perfect to build out as an office for me, a training room we could both use, and a studio for Linda." Cale's voice was softening a little, again making it hard to hear. "I found a place that will ship a wheel out here. I'm going to go ahead and order one and surprise her with it – her work is just getting more amazing all the time, and ... I think she'd do a lot more if she had her own wheel, at home. Her time at the school is pretty limited, even as generous as they've been to let her use theirs after hours."
"She really has a talent for it," the man agreed. "And she could still take things in to school to fire them, couldn't she?"
"Probably, but I'll talk with Sandra about that, or with the art teacher at the high school." The voice sounds as familiar as ever, Butler marveled, even discussing a gift for his beloved rather than corruption in city government. "Especially if we get the place next door, we'd have plenty of room to build a kiln outside, if it's something she wanted to do often enough to have one. I just thought I ought to wait and get her vote on that..."
There was a pause, and the other man said, more quietly, "she's really taken to being here, you know? It suits her – it seems as if she can finally relax and let herself be happy."
"I know..." Eyes Only's voice took on a wistful note as it dropped a little more. "I was always worried about her the most..."
"Like that's news," came the gentle snort. "No matter the situation, she's gonna be first in your book. Nothing wrong with that – you're first in hers."
"Yeah, how'd I manage that?" Butler could almost hear the smile through the pause in conversation, as Cale seemed to reflect on the thought. "This place has been great for her." Tom heard a soft, amazed laugh, and Cale continued, "I don't know, she was so acclimated to city life, I just couldn't imagine that she could really enjoy it here, so completely. If you'd told me two years ago Sandra would make her a teacher's aide and she'd thrive on it ... And then, the whole pottery thing..."
"Maybe she's finally enjoying a part of life she missed in her childhood – and enjoying the chance to share it with the kids at school. Not so much time for tumbling and story time in a circle when she was growing up. And certainly no time for art or being creative."
"And she's as good at that all of that as everything else she tries." There was a deep sigh, then Cale resumed, "I'm just glad that it makes her so happy. It was a lot to ask, for her to leave everyone behind, but she came out here with me, no hesitation ... It just makes it all the better that it's worked out for everyone." There was another pause, and Cale suddenly asked, "Look – the house – it's just because the owner's stalling on whether or not he wants to sell, right? Not because there's any hold up with a loan, or ..."
"Nothing like that," Cale's friend assured him. "Just a stubborn owner."
"Because ... you know... if anything like that becomes an issue..."
'The sound of a good man to have as a friend, sincere and interested,' Tom's earlier thoughts came back to him. The sound of a man who would put his own interests after those of his friends... or after those of the weak and voiceless ... he vowed to remember. ... the sound of a man he ought to admire, not condemn ...
"It won't." There was a moment of quiet, then the voice continued, "but thank you."
"You know I mean it..."
Butler glanced at his watch. Damn – I've already been here for over fifty minutes, but how can I walk out on this? Who knows if something might be said? He felt as if he'd wasted the first part of this conversation, more worried about his own reaction to Eyes Only's retirement than the man he'd come to discover. The men seemed engaged enough in their discussion that they hadn't noticed him – and they wouldn't know how long he'd been there before they arrived. Others in the diner, though, might be a different story...
... and just as if she'd read his mind, the stocky waitress ambled up to offer, "Honey, was there something else you wanted? I would have asked sooner but usually you just eat and go..."
Caught without a ready excuse to stay, still trying to catch the others' conversation while thinking of what he could say to the woman, he stammered, "Uh, no, I ..." Tom glanced around, needing some pretense, and suddenly saw, "... Pie." He relaxed a little, looking back up to her. "Pie," he repeated, affecting a boyish smile. "I ... I've been trying to make my cash stretch by not getting the extras, but ... I've been craving pie since I saw you had it there, homemade, my first time here..."
He tried to keep his eyes on the waitress as he heard the man with Cale prod him a little. Save the good stuff 'til the waitress leaves, he pleaded with them silently...
The waitress' look dissolved into a wide, motherly smile. "Tell you what," she nodded to him. "You pay for the pie and you can have all the coffee with it you can drink– unless you'd rather have a glass of milk..."
"Coffee would be great," he relaxed. "Thank you." He watched her amble off to get the coffee pot and a heavy white mug as he honed back in on the voices behind him.
"You know you'd better have that bike of yours done before we move out there – we need all four of us if we're going to do "foursome" rides out around the lakes. Or you could come along on those morning runs you wanted me to do with Linda..."
The waitress brought his pie, already topping off his coffee, and Tom managed to consider for a moment the generosity and openness of the people here as he went back to his eavesdropping, assuming he had discovered yet another reason Eyes Only might have been lured away from civilization by this place – a world apart from the vicious predators and greedy opportunists he'd spent several years pursuing...
"I'm gonna keep up with you two?" Cale asked.
"Sure, on the bike you would. Look..." The voice sobered a bit, spoke more intently. "It would be good to up your cardio work – without the team you don't get the workouts you used to get. I know you're doing all the things you can at home, but you know as well as I do that your choices are a lot more limited off your feet. The bike will be good to raise your pulse rate and keep it working at a more challenging level for an extended period of time, the way you did pounding up and down the court."
"I know, mom..." Despite the sarcasm, Cale's voice carried a sudden bit of recalcitrance. "But I am working out on the glider, just as you ordered..."
"Uh-huh." The response carried skepticism. "And, probably about as well as can be expected, for how much you hate it." There was a pause, maybe as the words were allowed to have their effect, before the man continued, "besides, the bike will get you outside again – and it might not be as glaring a reminder as the glider is that you're not playing ball."
So two people in his life to look out for Eyes Only, then? Given how powerfully he'd been affected by all aspects of this story since he'd arrived, Tom wasn't too surprised to find that the idea was comforting. Someone to look out for Logan Cale, the way he looked out for millions, back in the day...
A sigh, then Cale admitted ruefully, "I suppose if I want to finish putting it together I'll just need to bring it home." Again, he seemed to laugh softly in some surprise at his circumstances. "At first I didn't have all that much to do in the shop, so was getting more of it done. But over the past few weeks I have more and more people bringing me things ..." He paused, chuckling, "I think after I fixed a couple computers and that old radio Chet found, word got out – now the weekend entertainment around here is to go dig in the attic to find something to bring in that's un-fixable, and take bets to see how long it will be before I give up."
The man with him chuckled, and said, "Mr. Papasian says you're the best assistant he's ever had."
"He wanted to give me a raise," Cale admitted, sounding guilty. "Just like it was when he first started insisting that he pay me, when he caught on that I didn't keep coming back just to borrow his tools. This time I finally told him I couldn't really take more than he was already paying, that I'd lose my disability benefits if I got over a certain amount a month ..."
"Hmm – not bad." His friend approved the apparent deception. "You do know that your filling in for him is a good thing, right? He really needed to dial it back, and he's doing a lot better. His blood pressure was terrible before, and he couldn't find anyone to help him with all the repairs, even if he could find someone to keep the shop open. Maybe the work isn't quite as flashy as you're used to..." The pause seemed to be filled with some reaction; Tom heard nothing from Cale but the other man's vocal change seemed to be in response to something. "Look... you're doing a good thing. Even if you do get some weird thrill out of finding shorts in toaster ovens..."
Cale finally grudged him a chuckle. "Well ...speaking of which ... I'd better get back. Mrs. Keller is beside herself planning what she'll make in it first – I'd better be there when she comes to get it."
"Yeah, I'd better get back too." Tom heard a chair scrape as the man with Cale stood, and soon the pair was heading toward the cash register, moving onto Tom's line of sight. "We're getting together tonight?"
"Yeah, I think Sandra and Linda were planning something." Cale handed over the money to his waitress, waving off the other man as he opened his wallet. "I got it."
"No, man, you don't need..."
"Hey, 'electronic wizard,' remember? Mr. Papasian's raise?" From the corner of his eye, Tom could see Cale grin up at his friend.
"Thanks." There seemed to be more than just a lunch in that word. "What time are you closing up this afternoon?"
Cale glanced at his watch. "Oh, 3:30, 4:00 ... Linda was going to go over to the high school and use their wheel for a bit once they've finished all the planting ... she'll probably come get me when she's done. What about you?"
"6:00, I hope. It's still summer as far as sprains and cuts and stitches go." As they began making their way out of the café, Butler followed their words while he still could.
Cale smiled. "Well, whatever's planned, we can let you catch your breath before we get going. Just let us know when's a good time..."
Butler could see they men still spoke for another few moments before parting ways and heading in opposite directions up the block...
And Tom suddenly slumped on his stool, expended, finding he'd held himself in tense attention the entire time they'd been there. Now what? Butler asked himself. Was Eyes Only really in retirement, content in fixing broken appliances and relaxing with a buddy, the picture of small town life?
Sure – and still helping those around him: the repair shop owner, the offer to fund his friend's home? Tom had a sudden moment of clarity.
Eyes Only hadn't retired – he'd just scaled back. Way back...
...and as Tom left a few extra bills as a tip and made his way to the cash register, he thought he just might be finding his way toward more of a balance, to write his story.
...or at least recognize that Eyes Only was merely an idea, a symbol, and that Logan Cale was a complex, generous, once-beleaguered man – a great man. A man who'd found himself a gentle, kind community and a nubile young potter with whom to share it... Is that so hard to accept? You admit he deserves it. Having any opinion about it – worrying about 'accepting' his choices or not -- is you taking his retirement personally – something you have no right to do.
And as he stepped out of the café into the afternoon sun, Butler paused momentarily, looking around at the town, and decided he could only go with the flow from here on out. Turning to head back to the hotel to dictate some fast notes before he forgot any of the conversation he'd just heard, he finally chuckled to himself, all I know is that if I found a nubile young potter that beautiful, who looked at me that way ... I don't think I'd ever want to look at civilization again...
A half an hour later, Tom stood at his hotel room window, overlooking the picturesque street, notes dictated and options open. Only Day Two ... was he ready to bring matters to a head? Was it too rash to approach Cale now? There was no rush, was there?
No ... but today is Saturday. Tomorrow being Sunday, he was willing to bet all he had that in such a small community, local businesses would be closed, as they had been for generations ... and, at that very moment, he knew right where he could find Cale, where he'd have him relatively captive and probably, for the most part, alone... who knew when he would have a better moment for his initial approach? Enough excuse for a rush, after all, he rationalized, straightening a little. And with a private smile, he realized he was grounded enough to see the story through. It might throw him another few emotional moments – but this story was his to write, whatever it became...
His excitement was undeniable now, and he'd almost forgotten the anger and disappointment that he'd felt amid all the reactions he'd had since he'd arrived. He was only a block away from Logan Cale, maybe was the only person to have found where he'd gone. Would Cale talk to him? Was there any hope that he wouldn't be angry, being found?
...was there any chance at all he might know some of my work?
He had to ease his way in, speak a little first, get a sense of how to tell Cale who he was, why he was there. Butler looked around the room for something, anything, that he could take over to have fixed, something to get him in the door and Cale talking to him, so he could see if things felt right to tell him who he was and why he was here...
... and his eyes fell on the desk...
