I do not own Bates Motel.
But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.
Yeah, Whatever
Try Something New
"It was really annoying," Dylan vented later on to Emma.
Trying not to get too worked up and blow everything out of proportion.
Like Norma would.
"She's there in that house she likes with a guy who's really nice to her and Norman's getting help where he needs to be."
She had been so content and happy there.
Norma.
Sitting on the couch with him, listening to him talk about his visit with Norman . . .
". . . more at peace . . ."
. . . at the nuthou-, er, mental health facility.
He had even made sure to be noncombative in regard . . .
"Why do you think that is?"
. . . to certain truths . . .
Because he's away from the codependency of your relationship. He can start to heal.
. . . he believed about Norman's recovery.
"Uh, I don't know-"
And Norma was happy.
". . . best news I could ever hear, Dylan."
Even better than the fact that Emma's CF seems to be gone? Or that I'm bet- never mind.
Norman, yes, Norman.
Okay, new topic. Something non-Norman related. It'll be good for you.
"How's the husband?"
Bashful grin.
". . . very good."
Girlish giggle.
Aww, she's getting the nice sex.
Ew, uh, yay.
Which then devolved into her delving . . .
"You didn't tell Norman, did you?"
. . . head first right back into dysfunction.
Dammit.
Like she couldn't even help herself.
And all the nice, normal, happy, hopeful feelings had been fractured.
Just like that.
Norma. You're the adult. Be the adult and live your life. Stop covering up. There's nothing to cover up!
"And she just won't let either one of them be okay."
Always the same thing.
". . . very close and he's fragile."
He had briefly debated letting it slide.
"Hm . . ."
But Emma had been teaching him through example to be more open and honest.
Not to hide.
And not to enable hiding.
Not out of hate or vindictiveness.
But out of a desire to be real.
And help heal.
That could be a support group motto.
Be real. Help heal.
The Decody Way.
We could make t-shirts.
So he had taken a deep breath.
And the plunge.
"Did it ever occur to you that if you keep treating people like they're fragile, it keeps them from ever getting stronger?"
Noncombative. Nonthreatening.
Caring.
But honest.
And open.
To help heal.
She had cooled instantaneously, eyes frosting over.
Walls going up.
"Did you become a philosopher in Portland?"
Irritation rising. Brain working.
What would Emma do?
Try again.
So he did.
Using Emma, beautiful, wonderful, amazing Emma as the beacon they could both look to.
Because that's what he did.
". . . really impressed by the way Emma just dives into things-"
And all of Norma Louise Bates had brittled right up and shut right down.
"Yeah, sure. Glad Emma's got it down."
I am Norma Louise Bates, Eternal Broken Victim.
Remember when I was miserable and hurt my entire life always and forever? Remember?
Oh for god sakes.
Dylan floundered, the wheels of frustration spinning inside him.
"I just . . . she . . ."
He felt guilty saying it. Like he wasn't supporting his mother in her hour of darkest need.
It's always her hour of darkest need.
"I know her life was terrible, worse than I could ever imagine trying to survive."
He paused.
"But it's not now."
He worked his jaw, trying to figure out her brain.
"It's like she doesn't want to get better and be happy. Like she wants to stay sick and broken."
He risked a glance at Emma.
Whose dark eyes were, as always, filled with care and compassion for him.
"She's like a child. Always sulking and pouting over the past instead of moving on."
He shook his head helplessly.
"I just . . . I just wish she could be okay."
He shrugged.
"Doesn't she deserve it after everything she's been through?"
Emma smiled sadly.
Playing with his fingers, rubbing her own comfortingly against his.
"Yeah, she does, Dylan. But she has to try. She has to work at it. Nobody can make her."
He was quiet then.
Sad for his mother. Frustrated for her.
Wondering if she'd ever change.
Admitting to himself that he didn't think she would.
It had however, sitting there with the now closed-off Lady of Perpetual Bates/Calhoun Tragedy and Sorrow, made it easier to tell her the second thing he had come to tell her.
"I'm going to be moving to Seattle with Emma and her dad."
Norma hadn't liked it.
"It's going to be okay, Norma. I promise."
But she hadn't fought much.
Hardly at all.
"Okay."
Certainly not as much as she would have if it had been Norman . . .
I'm still surprised he ever actually went to public school.
Kindergarten must have been hell.
Eighth grade too.
No, be nice.
. . . who had announced his intentions to leave.
And they had hugged.
She had kissed his cheek.
Invited him to dinner.
Yes, I will come and eat food with you, Norma.
And then he had fled down those steps.
As politely as possible.
Jumped in his truck.
God, I could use a smoke.
And driven straight to Emma.
For strength. For encouragement.
For that happy, healthy, normal breath of fresh air of her he was beginning to crave more than anything in the world.
And now, hours later, after more boxing had been accomplished . . .
One time, I had to pack my stuff in pillowcases. Long story.
. . . more tea had been drunk . . .
Still hot flavored liquid.
And that's okay. It isn't always about me.
. . . and various other errands check off the list . . .
Forwarding address?
Uh, Not The Hell Here, Washington.
I mean, Seattle.
. . . here they were.
Kicked back on her bed like they did almost everyday now.
Her head on his outstretched knee.
Fingers interwined.
Talking, coming down from the day.
"I'm just proud of you," Emma reassured him. "You're going to be okay."
"Because of you," he replied, looking right at her.
Open and honest.
She glanced over at him and he felt just a little self conscious.
But he was already in it now and he wanted her to understand anyway.
So he went for it.
"I feel . . . stronger because of you. More balanced. I feel like I can think. Like I can try."
He paused, struggling with emotions that were too big for words.
"I feel like I can see light when I'm with you."
She stared at him, nostrils flaring as she breathed without tubes.
"You saved me."
She cleared her throat carefully but her voice was still husky when she spoke.
"Dylan, you always wanted to be okay. I could tell."
"Yeah," he admitted. "But I just never knew how until I met you."
She grinned a little mischievously.
"You make me sound a like a flowchart."
Well, I do have an arrow that points to you.
But we won't talk about that right now.
You're still healing.
So he tried to think of something better to say.
I love you, Emma.
This show is a testament to personal evolution. I love Dylan.
Have I said?
;)
Thanks to WordWeaver81 and Lana Brown (yes, 'him' was Sam, you got it) for reviewing.