Collision part 4
AN: So sorry I haven't updated in a while. So much going on in real life. But, as a treat for those still interested, here's an extra-long chapter. Hope it's satisfying.
Disclaimer: Not mine; well, the majority is not mine.
Chris
She seems to be perking up a little and you're glad of it. You watch her from a small distance as she peruses a rack of colorful shirts, seemingly relaxed and unharmed, except for the cast on her wrist and her hardly detectable limp.
You were quite worried about her this morning, when she came out of the shower, all earlier fun and flirting forgotten the moment she insisted on watching the news features of the train accident. You're still mad at yourself for switching on the damn TV to watch the news anyway. Couldn't you have settled for some innocent cartoons instead?
Luckily, she was then quite quickly distracted by the hassle of getting dressed, even going as far as picking up the flirting again. If anything, it got you over the initial awkwardness of having to touch her in quite intimate places, places you never thought you would feel underneath your fingertips.
Which took its toll on you. You hope she didn't notice you were getting a bit (a bit more than a bit, to be honest) aroused by the brush of her soft skin against your fingers. Merri is, after all, indeed a pretty woman and you can't (and never bothered to) deny you're attracted to her.
But you're just partners, remember? You've gone over this in your mind a hundred times before already and nothing has changed, nothing at all. So it's your job to help her get through the bad and ugly times. A little flirting is okay to relieve the tension, but that's all there is to it. Sad as it may be, you've got to keep your libido under control. Perhaps, when you get back to New Orleans, you can break the promise you made to your mentor just once and find another woman who's willing to let you unhook her bra. It won't be what you're looking for, but it'll just have to do.
"Chris, you like this one?"
Shaken out of your reverie, you look up to see Merri hold up a red shirt. It's pretty generic in your inexperienced eyes, but red is a good color on her, which you're quick to tell her.
She nods her consent at your statement, a cute blush spreading on her cheeks at the compliment behind it. Taking the shirt from the rack and placing it on top of the stack of plain panties, sports bras (which she sadly didn't ask your opinion on) and socks she has already gathered, she walks to another rack where hundreds of pairs of jeans are piled on top of each other. Apparently, she knows both the brand she needs as well as the right size and extracts a pair of dark blue jeans from the precariously tilting stacks, a little clumsily because of her injured hand, cursing as they fall over.
A young store clerk scoots over, picking up the fallen items from the floor and cursing under her breath, but still audible, at the clumsiness of the customer, but you shoot the young upstart a look so foul, she hastily puts the jeans back on the pile and retreats, causing Merri to grin this time, shaking her head.
"Stop scaring the personnel away, Chris. The poor kid did nothing wrong."
You huff, still thinking you were well within your rights.
"She can see you're wearing a cast. No need to be nasty because you're not your elegant self."
This causes a serious laughing fit for your partner.
"Elegant? Me? Have we met before?"
Yeah, you have. Up close and personal, literally. Closer at least than what the doctor recommended was conducive to your mental health. Quickly, crack a joke, no matter how lame it is!
"Can't take a compliment, Brody?"
"Can't come up with a better one, LaSalle?"
Ooh, a challenge! You like!
"Oh, now it's on!" (Like Donkey Kong!)
A wide grin plastered on your face, you start spouting off a series of the most idiot compliments you can think of, causing her to double over in laughter by the time you reach the cash register, where you lay off for a moment to swap her own credit card for the company card Pride made you take. For a moment, it looks like she wants to protest again, but in the end, seems to think better of it and obediently puts her own wallet away.
The bill is hardly cringe-worthy and you don't expect Pride will think differently. Merri is nothing if not modest. As it is, you see her glance over at the nice looking display of jewelry. Grabbing a set of a pretty red necklace and earrings, you wordlessly add them to the pile, pretending not to hear her objections. She deserves a little treat, even if you were the one who once said out loud you really don't get it when women use lots of bling to decorate themselves like a Christmas tree.
At least Merri keeps her accessories to a minimum, if only out of practicality. Doesn't mean the heart-shaped red pendant and the matching studs you chose won't become her. Meanwhile, you refuse to acknowledge that your choice in treat could be interpreted as something more than what it is: a simple gift. They're trinkets, not serious rocks, shape notwithstanding.
You take the bag with all your purchases from the saleslady (the young girl from before scowling at you in the background, still busy refolding the stack of jeans) and, giving her your sweetest smile, leave the store, Merri catching up with you.
The silence is about to become somewhat unsettling, until in some unspoken agreement, both your stomachs start growling in unison, causing you to suppress a laugh.
"Guess it's lunchtime, huh?"
She smiles at the mention of lunch.
"Yeah. Let's find a place to eat."
"Anything you fancy?"
"Nothing special, really."
You find a nice looking diner, decked out in fifties style and promising old-fashioned quality burgers and fries. It's just the right kind of tacky and you sit down in secluded faux red leather booth. Merri points out the jukebox in the corner and digging out some coins, you saunter over and select a few classics.
Once you're seated again, an appropriately attired waitress on roller skates comes over to take your order and soon enough, you're enjoying what are indeed really good burgers, fries and huge milkshakes, chocolate for Merri and strawberry for you.
In between two bites, Merri's expression once again turns serious.
"God, Chris, I know I've said it before, but I really don't know how to thank you properly for all you've done for me so far."
Well, your traitorous body can come up (literally) with a suggestion, but no…not the time and place.
"You don't need to keep thanking me, Merri. I hate what happened to you, but being here with you now, it's not a punishment. It's what partners and friends do. And we are friends, Merri, even if I haven't really been very good at showing it after Savannah passed."
"I never blamed you for that. Different people look for different ways to grieve and even though I had hoped you would come to me, I understood you needed the…eh…distraction. The anonymity of other women."
Yeah…that had turned out just grant.
"I honestly didn't know what I needed, or how to feel. And I still don't."
You take a quick sip of your melting shake, not knowing if what you so suddenly and desperately want to confess is such a good idea, especially since Merri has enough on her mind as it is. But she doesn't seem to be put off. Instead, she's leaning in slightly, offering her ear as well as her silent support. Your mind made up, you put down the now empty glass and start to explain what has confused you so much it took a herd of women to try (unsuccessfully) and escape from.
"Things happened so fast with me and Savannah. One moment, Cade reintroduced me to her, the girl of my childhood dreams and the next it seems like I felt compelled to ask her out and all too soon I had emptied out a drawer for her and basically asking her to move in with me. But all this time…"
"What is it, Chris?"
"I cared for her, Merri, believe me, I did, but I feel like I was trying to live in a world I'd left behind in Bama long time ago. Like I was this awkward teenager again, in love with the prettiest girl in High School. But that Chris LaSalle left his home behind for a reason and what in my teenage years was the best future picture I could have painted, was just not fitting the frame anymore. I changed, my dreams and goals changed and here I was trying to squeeze it all together, telling myself it would all work out, that the doubts I had were merely cold feet."
Looking at your patient partner and still not finding any judgment in her eyes, you soldier on.
"The moment she accepted my offer, I regretted making it. Not because I wasn't willing to make the effort of letting her move in with me, but because I knew, deep down, that she and I were no longer supposed to be the dream couple I had made us out to be when we were younger…does that make any sense?"
You're not quite sure what you want Merri to say, you just hope she's not too put off by the confession you made just now, one that has been bothering you for quite some time and one you were trying to forget, the slew of women not only a distraction, but some kind of verification that Christopher LaSalle was indeed better of as a man unbound. Or maybe not unbound, but at least not bound to the wrong person.
Much to your relief, Merri nods in understanding.
"I guess something similar happened to Courtney and Adrian. In the end, they simply weren't those same high school sweethearts anymore. Their hopes and dreams had shifted in opposite directions. And where you lost Savannah before anything could develop even further, they were headed for this inevitable, nasty divorce. At least you and Savannah never got to a point where you came to resent the other one."
"I guess a part of me is relieved that we never got that far, you know? I mean, I never wanted to lose her the way I did, not like this, not this soon, but…God, Merri, is it wrong to feel like I somehow escaped from a situation that wouldn't have made either one of us happy eventually? That now at least she passed in a state of hope? Of happiness? I have felt so damn guilty all these months thinking shit like that, but I don't know how much longer I can go on playing the part of grieving partner while all along..."
Her uninjured hand finds yours and squeezes it gently.
"Chris, look at me, please."
You look up at her and let go of your anxious breath when again, you see no judgment in her warm doe eyes.
"You ARE grieving Chris and even doubly so. You're not just mourning the violent and cruel passing of a beautiful young woman in what was supposed to be a safe place, you're also mourning the dream that got lost. It doesn't really matter that it may have been lost long before she got killed. Neither does it matter if it was never meant to be anything more than just a dream, another childhood fairytale that never could have come true. And I know very well how much it hurts. Feeling guilty doesn't help anyone or anything, least of all yourself. You got to keep on living. Forgive yourself. Move on."
Trying to hide the fact you've been brought to tears by her support and understanding, you smile and remove your hand from her clasp, breaking the contact in order to regain your composure. When the waitress comes gliding over to ask you if you want anything more, you are glad of the sudden distraction. Glancing at your partner, you notice she too has put back her mask of neutral friendliness and for a moment, you wonder if she really was as affected by your confession as you thought she was. Shaking these thoughts off roughly, you ask for the bill and, after royally tipping the kind young woman, help Merri in her jacket.
The mood has shifted though and so has the weather. A dreary rain is falling and you're glad to reach the sanctity of your truck, cranking the heat up to ease the shivering of the woman sitting in the passenger's seat.
"Whereto, Miss Brody?"
"Home, I guess…eh, hotel I mean."
Without voicing any objections, you pull into traffic and set course to the hotel, trying to ignore the eerie silence which has settled between you.
Without even one ounce of success.
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Merri:
So Chris hadn't been head over heels in love with his High School sweetheart. He had merely been pretending to love her (romantically, that is), because for some reason, he got tangled up in the fairytale. It's a sad fact and you should feel sorry for him. Which you do, at least somewhat.
But there's another feeling, deep in your heart, trying to worm itself from the backburner you put it on, to the front of your mind. It's a fight you're afraid you're quickly losing, but at the same time must keep up with for as long as you can.
Relief.
Why is it that a normally benign emotion is so putrid in this case? Because you're not supposed to feel it at all in the first place, Merri, that's why. One is not supposed to feel relieved that their partner, who has lost someone important, is not grieving as much as he thinks he should, because he didn't love her as much as he thinks he should have.
And yet…if his heart isn't filled with sadness and lingering love for his lost girlfriend, it means his heart could be ready to be filled again with love for someone else…
Someone like you…
It's a snake pit, this jumble of thoughts of yours and the possibility of this daydream to come true is close to none, regardless of your flirting. It's more likely it'll come back and bite you in the ass, painfully. And since you can't take the risk of losing him altogether by staking a claim which isn't yours to claim to begin with, you must keep these feelings under control, fight them until your very last breath.
Support and friendship will have to be enough. Anything else will destroy the easygoing friendship you've so successfully built. Which is the last thing you would ever want.
But yet…
Sleeping in his arms had felt so good and so had his gentle flirting. He's been a true gentleman all this time, but instead of calming you down, it only caused your traitorous, rebellious heart to go haywire, imagining what else his strong but tender hands were capable of.
Now, combined with this new information, you feel like you're sitting on a time bomb, about ready to explode at any moment, leaving nothing but debris behind. And with God knows how many more nights with him in the same hotel room…
You can only hope Courtney gets better soon. Real soon.
You don't want to do something you'll surely end up regretting.
"Merri, we're here."
You look outside and sure enough, you've arrived back at the hotel. Chris, still the well-mannered man he always is, pulls up in front of the canopied entrance.
"You go ahead inside and I'll go park the car. No need for both of us to get wet."
Giving him a grateful look for his consideration (not that you should be surprised), you scoot out of the car and get inside, hardly catching any drops in the two steps between the car and the canopy. Chris pulls out, while you make your way to your room.
It's been tidied up since you left and you drop your purchases on the chair before you plop yourself down on what was your bed for all of two hours last night, promising yourself that this night, you'll sleep here. Period.
Chris comes in five minutes later, soaked from his mad dash over the wide expanse of the parking lot to the back entrance. Feeling sorry for him, you leap up and go to the bathroom to pick up some clean towels.
"Thanks, Merri."
He vigorously rubs his short hair dry and hangs his dripping leather jacket over the back of the chair, careful not to get your new clothes wet. His phone buzzes in his jeans pocket and he manages to pry it from its confinements before it stops.
"King," he tells you before answering.
A series of sure and fine and okays later, he hands you the device.
"He wants to talk to you."
"Hi, Pride."
"Hey Merri, how are you feeling?"
"A bit better I suppose. I got some painkillers for my arm and my headache, but I'm still worried about my cousin though."
"That's understandable. I want you to stay there for as long as you need, both of you."
"Pride, don't you need us back there? Or at least Chris?"
"I already discussed things with him and I want him to stay with you until you can both come home. No ands, ifs or buts, you hear me? Same goes for using the company credit card for your needs."
"Pride, I…we…can't…"
"Didn't I just say that yes, you can? Do I need to make this a direct order, Agent Brody?"
Smiling despite of yourself and grateful for his concern, you thank your boss.
"No, you don't. Thank you, for everything you're doing for me. Not just practically, but…well, you know."
"I do know, Merri. You're family. And this is what we do for each other. Could you please put Chris back on?"
You hand your partner his phone back and again, all you hear is a string of confirmations, before he disconnects and puts the phone down on his bedside table, plopping down on his own bed.
It's silent for a moment, before he asks: "Why did you ask King if he needs me back?"
"Because as long as you're here with me, it's just him and Sonja."
He shrugs.
"It's been him and me for quite some time. We managed. He'll manage for a week or so without us, I'm sure. I just thought…"
He hesitates for a moment, swallowing convulsively, then decides to just jump in.
"Thought you wanted to get rid of me. That I make you feel awkward and uncomfortable."
"Chris no, I'm very grateful you're here. You're such a good friend."
He shrugs, his face a picture of sad acceptance.
"Yeah, a friend, that's me…Merri…maybe I should get a separate room."
"Why?"
Okay, so that's not what you wanted to say out loud, since it would actually be a lot wiser for him to stay in his own room, but it's what came out and now you can't take it back.
"Because, well…"
Oh dear God, there's that sweet blush again.
"It's confusing, Merri. I got the feeling we're wading through quicksand and I don't want either one of us to do anything we might regret later on."
You don't need him to spell out what he means by that, so you nod, reluctantly. At your silent confirmation, he picks up the phone and calls the reception. Ten minutes later, he hangs up with a silent 'thank you'.
"We're in luck, Merri. The room next door is available, so I can check in my stuff right away. I'll still be very close should you need me but, well…it's better, right?"
"Right."
What else can you say, really? Chris rubs the back of his neck in his signature nervous gesture and smiles a little sheepishly. Then, without glancing in your direction, he packs up his go-bag, stuffs his clothes and toiletries in and stalks over to the door. With the doorknob in his hand, he half-turns to you, still avoiding eye-contact.
"Right, so I eh…I'm gonna go get my keycard from the lobby and move my stuff in okay? Maybe you can get some rest, and then we can grab some dinner and swing by the hospital to check on your cousin."
"Yeah, sure."
"I'll knock on your door at six."
"Okay."
"Okay."
The door closes behind him and you let yourself fall backwards onto the mattress, willing the tears away.
To no avail.
** CMCMCMCMCMCMCMCMCM **
Chris:
This is not what you wanted to happen, you think as you pick up your keycard and try to smile at the lady behind the desk as she processes your credit card. This extra room is not going on the company card; you don't want to have to explain to King why you're not mature enough to spend a few nights with a female partner without acting like a rabid dog.
What King doesn't know won't kill him.
This may only kill you.
Okay, so you're being overly dramatic, but Dear Lord, this was never meant to happen. Why, why couldn't you have kept your mouth shut about Savannah? Why did you feel you should open that Pandora's Box? What good would it do, to burden Merri with a confession like that?
And damn her, by the way! Damn her for being all kinds of sweet and understanding. Jeez, why couldn't she be disgusted with you, like you are with yourself, really? It would most likely have had the same effect (you getting another room, that is), but at least you wouldn't feel so damn conflicted about it!
Getting all your stuff back from the receptionist, you thank her again and pick up your bag, taking the elevator up and opening the door of your new temporary residence, while trying to hear if there is any movement, any sound coming from Merri's room.
It's deadly silent in there and you hope it's because she's resting.
Not that she would have moved out or anything (she wouldn't have gotten very far without you knowing it anyway), but well…she's just constantly on your mind. Which isn't all that surprising considering the situation, but it's more the direction your thoughts can take when you're too weary to reel them back in that worries you.
It was actually the very first inkling of doubt about you loving Savannah enough, when, straight through your relationship with her, you found yourself checking out your partner, feeling some sort of attraction to her. Not just to her physical attributes, but to her personality as well. You simply liked her. A lot. A whole lot.
Which was a whole lot too much for a man who was supposed to be in a committed relationship.
Then, when Savannah died, the guilt was choking you. All of your friends, King and Merri included, attributed said guilt to you not being home on time to prevent her murder from happening and sure, you did feel the guilt for that. But it was nothing compared to the damning feeling of knowing the two of you were no longer meant to be, because you felt more comfortable, more alive with someone else.
Perhaps it was a good thing Savannah never found out, but that shouldn't mean that you can behave the way you've been behaving with Merri, because you're freed of your commitment. Even her memory deserves better from you.
And so does Merri. Your little confession put part of the guilt squarely on her shoulders and where shared misery is supposed to make it easier, you've only heaved another kind of guilt on your tired, sagging shoulders.
How is she supposed to feel now? How conflicted did you make her feel?
God, it's enough to give you a headache, so you may as well take your own advice and lie down for a while, before you're going to have to act all normal when you take Merri out for dinner and a visit to her cousin.
You try to concentrate on a copy of the local newspaper you picked up from the hotel counter, but since it's still full of the train accident, it doesn't help you much to relax. You decide to take the warm shower you wanted to take earlier today (no, you're not thinking of what it would be like to share said shower with your partner). It relaxes you a little and by the time you're dressed again, it's time to get Merri.
It takes some time for her to answer to your knocking and you can't help but bite back a laugh when you see why; she's halfway into putting her new shirt on and apparently got her injured hand stuck. Which also explains the expletives clearly audible from behind her closed door.
"Come here."
Forgetting the awkwardness between you for a moment, you maneuver her arms into the designated holes and smooth the shirt over. She gives you a nod and a smile and points to some items spread out on her bed: the earrings and necklace you got her as a gift.
You sigh, a little overdramatically. The necklace isn't much of a problem, though the clasp is rather small for your hands. But does she really expect you to put the studs in her ears? Seeing your hopeless expression, she laughs and takes mercy, foregoing on the studs.
"Ready for dinner, Merri?"
"Yeah, I could eat something."
Not feeling up to go anywhere fancy, you make your way to the hotel restaurant. It's not too posh and the food is excellent, though you haven't given too much thought to what you ordered. Merri is quite silent, though you're somewhat optimistic about her mood and your friendship now that she has changed into her new shirt and is wearing the necklace.
You do notice however, that she's not eating much.
"You okay, Merri?"
"Yeah…just a little worried about Courtney. She looked so fragile in that big hospital bed yesterday, hooked up on all kinds of machines."
"It's creepy I know, but I think someone would have warned us by now if something bad had happened to her."
"I know. I just need to see for myself, I guess."
"We'll go as soon as we've finished eating, okay? But you should at least actually eat something first. Your body needs the energy to heal properly."
Obediently, she takes a bite of her fish, which she has chosen because it cuts easily. And she accepts the chocolate mousse you ordered for dessert without a problem too.
The drive to the hospital is mostly silent, but you don't attribute it to anything but Merri's nerves at the prospect of seeing her injured cousin. At the hospital, you have a quick chat about her condition with the doctor first. He informs you both that Courtney has woken up and seems to be doing well, except for a headache. Also, she has no recollection of the accident; all she remembers is getting on the train with her cousin. After that, she draws a blank. He goes on to explain that this memory loss is most likely temporary and that it's probably caused by a combination of the concussion and the emotional trauma of being in a major accident. It may gradually return in a few days' time, but he's not too worried if it doesn't. Since Courtney's long term memory is intact and she shows no other signs indicative to any major brain damage, he's quite optimistic she'll make a full recovery, though it may take some time.
After that, you're allowed to see her. You stop at the door, allowing Merri the privacy she might need to talk to her cousin. She hesitates for a moment, her hand on the doorknob.
"Go ahead, Merri. You heard the doctor; she'll be okay. And I'll be right here if you need me. I'll just get some coffee, okay?"
She nods and goes in, giving you a small, wan smile.
You find a coffee machine and take your brown sludge back to the hallway, leaning against the wall and pacing a little, until you hear the door open and Merri pokes her head out.
"Courtney is awake and she wants to meet you."
You smile, wondering what Merri's been telling her about you.
"Okay."
You enter the room to see a woman who surely has a lot of features in common with your partner, except for the fact her hair is longer and lighter. She greets you with a smile, indicating she can't extend her hands, as one is taped in and the other one is attached to an unyielding IV.
"So you're the infamous Christopher LaSalle. Heard a lot about you."
Infamous huh? Merri, Merri, what have you been telling her?
"Yes, ma'am, that's me. And hopefully Merri's been kind about me."
"She has, don't worry. Thank you for coming over to help her, well, us. I heard you've been talking to my ex-husband?"
"Yes I have. Told him what happened to you and to inform your son."
She nods. "Have you heard back from Mark yet?"
"So far no. But it's still early days."
"Well, you could always call him yourself now that you're awake."
"Maybe. But something tells me he doesn't know yet. Maybe one of you should get in touch with the summer camp leaders. It's his teacher Miss Vanderbilt. Her number's in my phone. I don't think I could handle a phone call yet. Would you mind?"
"Of course not," Merri is quick to say.
You stay for a few moments longer, but your visit is clearly already taking its toll from the injured woman (both of them actually) and with the promise to come back the day after, with news from her son, you leave Courtney to her much needed rest.
You're not surprised when Merri falls asleep during the drive back home. It's been an emotionally draining day for her. She wakes up just as you kill the engine in the parking lot of the hotel. Wordlessly, you help her to her room and into the t-shirt (yours) she's still wearing as a nightgown since neither one of you remembered to buy her some pajamas.
She's back asleep before her head hits the pillow and with a whispered 'sleep tight', you leave to go to your own room, where you're not quite as lucky as she is and don't sleep a wink, already missing the weight of her slumbering body against your own.
Maybe this separate room wasn't such a good idea after all…or maybe it really is.
TBC...
Well, hopefully that was worth the wait. Reviews, as always, much appreciated.