Disclaimer Dean Ambrose is the property of the WWE and/or the actor / sports entertainer / superstar that portray him. This story is intended as tribute only and is not intended to infringe on any copyrights.
Original characters are the property of me, and the children of my own imagination. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
Author's notes: No, I have not abandoned The Girl Who Lives. I just was reading Ablivion's story Trapped in An Elevator With The Shield, (excellent one shot, you should go read it, it's both touching and funny) and I got the idea for this one. No, I didn't copy Ablivion's story, except for the concept of being stuck in an elevator. But since her story did give me the idea and since it is a great story, I wanted to acknowledge the inspiration behind it.
Pennies
The two women who walked into the empty elevator at the same time were very close in age, although you would never know by looking at them. And if you saw them, you would conclude that they didn't know each other, which was absolutely true. This was the first time in either of their lives that they were ever within 500 feet of each other, despite having grown up in the same city.
The one woman looked at least ten years older than her given age. She was tall and thin with dirty blonde hair that could have used a good wash. In fact, everything about her indicated that a long, hot, shower could be beneficial to her. She wore a pair of dirty jeans and a t-shirt that proudly proclaimed across her breasts that she only slept with the best. If she hadn't been wearing a ragged denim jacket, the back would have been visible, which was an advertisement for a mattress manufacturer. She had quick, nervous gestures as if she was a bird in the middle of a heard of elephants and constantly had to avoid being stepped on.
The other woman looked much younger than her age, and might have easily been mistaken for a high school girl, if she were carrying books. She wore a denim skirt, faded to a light blue, but clean. Above that she wore a blouse made of a light, gauzy type of material with narrow sleeves that belled out at the wrists. The emerald green color set off her eyes perfectly. Her long, auburn hair hung loose around her shoulders, kept out of her face with a simple green headband, the exact color of the blouse. She looked as if she could have walked out of the past, the sixties or seventies, and if this was a movie, likely some song by Fleetwood Mac or The Grateful Dead would have been playing in the background whenever the scene focused on her.
Both women each had a child with them too, young children and about a year apart in age. As with their mother's appearance, the children were different as well. The blonde woman had a son, the auburn one a daughter. Both children had similar hair and eye color to their mothers. But the boy, like his mother, seemed ragged and unkempt. He was wearing a pair of jeans that looked as if they may have never seen the inside of a washing machine and a T-shirt that advertized Harley Davidson motorcycles. The girl was wearing a pair of jeans as well, and like her mothers they had faded to a soft blue and white. They were spotlessly clean and decorated with brightly colored patches in such a way that the patches almost seemed to be a design. Her shirt was a tie-dye T-shirt in mostly greens and blues, with a row of brightly colored bears marching across the front.
The mother of the boy was holding her son's hand. The woman with the daughter carried her child in her arms. When they boarded the elevator, the boy's mother was close to the buttons. The woman with the daughter smiled. "Tenth floor, please!"
The young boy's head turned in the direction of the strange woman. Her voice sounded different from the women he knew, almost as if she were singing the words rather than saying them. He stared at her, wondering if there was something wrong, or something right about her voice.
"Yeah, that's where I was going too," the boy's mother said, pressing the button for the tenth floor. There was something in the way she said it that almost came across as if she was only willing to press the button because she needed it too, as if she would have refused to press the button for the 10th floor if she had needed any other. The door to the elevator shut and the elevator began to rise. This was an older building and thus an older elevator and it made a creaking noise as it began its accent.
The boy began alternating his gaze between the woman and his mother, looking slightly worried as if he was afraid his mother's reaction might cause problems. When the girl's mother looked puzzled, but said nothing, he relaxed. His gaze wandered over to the little girl she was holding and her stared at her with that interest that all children had upon seeing each other. As if she was aware she was being looked at, the girl turned her head and stared back at him, blue eyes and green eyes locking on each other. Then the little girl smiled. "Down, Mommy," she said. "Want down!"
The woman kissed her daughter's head and rubbed her back. "What do you say, sweetie?" she asked, in that same singsong voice.
The little girl thought for a moment, frowning as she thought about what her mother was requesting of her, then she broke into a grin. "Pease?" She nodded as if she knew she had found the right word. "Down, pease?"
The woman smiled and lowered the girl to the floor, but kept hold on her hand. The little girl stared at the little boy, still grinning as if he was her new best friend. The boy scowled, feeling slightly nervous to be the focus of so much attention.
"Jesus Christ this elevator is taking a long time," the mother of the boy grumbled. Almost as if the elevator heard them, came to a lurching stop, but it wasn't at the tenth floor, the lights indicated it was the seventh floor. They waited for the doors to open, expecting someone to come on, then the elevator gave a lurch that seemed to indicate they went down instead of up. The lights blinked once, then went out and the mechanical hum of the elevator machinery stopped and an almost unearthly quiet filled the small space. A moment later, a couple smaller lights came on, which didn't really light up the elevator, just spread an eerie glow.
The four occupants of the elevator stared around at each other as if expecting someone to step forward and fix this problem, although how, no one was sure. The children weren't even sure what the problem was, or if there even was a problem. Their young lives hadn't included many elevator rides and for all they knew, this was normal. But the boy at least, was pretty sure it wasn't.
"God damn it!" the boy's mother finally said, so loudly that the little girl and her mother jerked in surprise. The boy, however, did not. He was used to his mother's words exploding from her mouth at times. "I think the damned elevator is stuck."
"Press the emergency button," the girl's mother suggested.
"Gee, thank you, Ms. Einstein," the blonde snapped, rolling her eyes, "I never would have figured that out." She jammed her finger into the red "Call" button. The moment she did, an alarm started ringing, not so loud that it was uncomfortable. It sounded like it was coming from further down. Just for good measure, the woman also poked at a few other buttons to see if that would magically fix the elevator. "Son-of-a-bitch," she fumed.
The little girl stared at the blonde woman and then ducked behind her mother's skirt, looking slightly afraid. The little boy looked at her, wondering why. The girl's mother opened her mouth as if to say something, then seemed to think better, and closed it.
Meanwhile, the blonde kept pressing the red emergency/call button, making the bell go off. When that didn't bring instant results, she started pushing at the open door button. "We're likely stuck between floors, but maybe not so much that we can't get out," she muttered. When the doors failed to open, she angrily went back to pressing the emergency/call button again. "What the fuck!"
This time the mother of the little girl spoke. "Excuse me," she said, her voice still sounding to the boy's ears as if she was singing them more than saying them, but with a slight edge to it as well. "I know this is upsetting, but can you please mind the language? There are children in here."
"So?" the blonde said, which was pretty much what her son was thinking too. "Not like they won't hear it soon enough," she added, pressing the button.
The auburn haired woman looked as if she might speak again, then changed her mind. She held her daughter's hand tightly. "Don't worry," she said, "Someone will hear the alarm and fix this, we won't be here long." She was obviously speaking to comfort the girl, but the boy found some comfort in those words as well.
"Yeah, they'll call in the national guard to save us," the blonde woman sneered. As if on cue, just as she finished speaking, came the sound of a phone ringing. "What the hell?"
"It's the phone," the other woman said, her voice gentle. She walked over, closer to the woman, letting go of her daughter's hand. The blonde woman was looking confused. The girl's mother pulled open a small door built into the elevator panel. To the boy and his mother's surprise, there was a phone receiver in there. The woman picked it up and put it to her ear. "Hello?"
The boy, his mother, and the little girl could hear someone talking to the woman, but the voice was muffled. The red haired woman was smiling though. "Yes, we're stuck," she said, and that melodious voice of hers. "But we're fine, no one is injured." She paused, listened, then spoke again. "We have two women here and two young children, that's all." Pause again. "Okay, I understand. Yes, we'll be all right. But, my daughter has an 11:00 appointment with Dr. Shaffer-"
"So does my son," the woman interrupted. "Well, actually it was for 10:45, we were running late."
"The other woman with me has an appointment for 10:45," the red haired woman said. "Yes, my name is Alice Nolan, my daughter is Cinnamon. The woman is-" She paused and looked at the boy's mother. "What's your name?"
"Why do you care?" the woman snapped.
Alice Nolan rolled her eyes and looked annoyed. "So they can tell the doctor's office not to worry that we're stuck in the elevator. Otherwise, they'll think we're both no call, no show."
"Fine," the woman said. "Donna Ambrose."
There was a moment of silence as Alice stared at the woman. When Donna remained silent, she closed her eyes for a moment, shook her head, and said, "And your son's name?"
"Dean," the woman said.
"Fine." Alice spoke back into the phone. "The woman with me is Donna Ambrose and her son is named Dean-"
"Not like they couldn't have figured out who it was," Donna muttered.
The muffled sound of someone talking on the other end of the phone line was heard again, and Alice listened, nodding. "Yes, thank you. Yes, we'll be fine. But we both would appreciate any help in getting us out of here as soon as possible. Yes, I understand, thank you." She hung up the phone.
"So?" Donna more demanded than asked, "What did they say?"
"They have a call in with the company that maintains the elevator," Alice Nolan said, her voice still calm. "The problem is a little more than they can handle, but they assured me they're doing everything possible to get us out of here."
"Sure they are." Donna snorted. "Like they give a damn about us."
Alice stared at her, and shook her head. "I'm sure they're very concerned about us," she finally said. "And, if you don't believe that, you can at least believe that they want to get this elevator working again. It's the only one in this building and it's 18 stories. No one wants to climb that many flights of stairs. There are a lot of doctor's offices on various floors too, patients who are less firm will need the elevator. Trust me, they will do everything they can to make sure this elevator is working as fast as possible."
While it was obvious nothing would convince Donna that anyone in the building cared about the occupants of the elevator, she looked slightly mollified at the idea that the lack of elevator would cause trouble for others in the building. "Did they give you an idea of how long this would take?"
Alice shook her head. "The gentleman told me they were doing everything they could to get us out as fast as possible and I have no reason not to believe him."
Donna rolled her eyes as if she couldn't believe how stupid Alice was. Alice herself went back over where her daughter was sitting having grown tired of standing.
"Hey honey," Alice said, sitting down next to her daughter. "Are you okay?"
"I don't like in here," the little girl said. "It's dark."
"Duh," Donna muttered.
Dean looked at his mother and frowned. He was used to her gruff attitude and he knew she wasn't feeling better, but this little girl, this...Cinnamon? Yeah, that was her name, Cinnamon, like the breakfast cereal he sometimes saw advertized on TV. Cinnamon was a little kid, probably younger than he was.
Donna caught Dean looking at her. "You have a problem?"
Dean shook his head and stepped away, closer to Cinnamon and her mom. Alice had scooped up the young girl and put her in her lap, so her back was leaning on her mother's stomach. Alice wrapped an arm around the girl.
Donna let out a loud sigh and started pacing. In the tiny space of the elevator, her nervous pacing made it seem like she was taking over the floor and Alice automatically shifted herself and her daughter so she was sitting cross legged. Dean shook his head, wishing his mother would stop. Why couldn't she just sit and be quiet like Alice Nolan?
After a few minutes of pacing, Donna pulled a package of cigarettes from her pocket. Shaking, she pulled one out of the pack and put it in her mouth. The noise of the lighter caught Alice's attention and she stared as Donna lit up the cigarette and took a long drag.
Donna exhaled the smoke through her nose and realized she was being stared at. "Something wrong?"
Alice pointed to a sign that neither of the children could read. "it says no smoking."
"Yeah? Well, that's fine when it's working. We're stuck and if I don't have a smoke, I'm not going to be very happy."
"But it's so tiny in here," Alice said, not backing down as she had before. "It's going to be a cloud in here if you keep doing that."
"Not my problem," Donna said, taking another big drag and blowing the smoke at the mother and daughter.
Dean closed his eyes for a moment, but showed no other reaction to his mother's rudeness. Alice stared at Donna as if she was debating if she should take the cigarette from her. Donna kept smoking, taking huge drags and blowing the smoke out as if she was trying to win a prize for how quickly she could fill up the tiny elevator car with blue smoke. Alice finally looked away from her, looking at the ceiling instead. There was a door in the ceiling. She stared at it so long that Donna finally looked at it.
"Hey!" Donna said, taking another drag from her cigarette, "The escape hatch!"
"Don't even think about it," Alice said, shaking her head. "We can't climb up there, we're not tall enough."
"Yeah, but I'll bet my kid could," Donna said.
Alice glared at her. "It's an elevator shaft! First, what's he doing to do, shimmy up the cable to the roof like Spider man? Second, there are electrical cords and other things that could kill him. If you want to try to climb up there yourself, fine, but your son stays here with us."
Dean stared at Alice in shock. He didn't understand all the words his mother and this woman had exchanged, but he got the general idea, his mother wanted him to do something and Alice Nolan wasn't going to let him because it was dangerous. Why would this stranger, this person who didn't know him, want to protect him? What was he to her?
"You don't tell me what I can do with my kid," Donna snapped and looked at Dean, "C'mere."
Dean headed over, knowing that to refuse her would be a bad idea. But before he got there, Alice stood up, putting her daughter down and got between him and his mother. "I thought I told you, if you want to try to get up there yourself, go for it, but your son stays here."
For a moment, Dean was sure his mother was going to hit Alice Nolan. He saw the fingers of her right hand curling into a fist, even saw her begin to move her arm. Alice stared at her, unflinching. Dean moved closer to the little girl, to Cinnamon. He had seen his mother hit people before, it was never pretty.
Alice just stared at her, right into her eyes as if challenging Donna, as if she wanted Donna to hit her, not because she wanted to be hit, but because it would give her an excuse to go crazy on the woman. Donna hesitated, not knowing if Alice might be stronger than she looked. Then she dropped the cigarette she was smoking on the floor of the elevator and crushing it out. She lowered her fist. "He's my son," she muttered.
Alice was really staring at her now, looking in her eyes as if she was seeing something in them, something Dean had seen before but had no name for. Something twitchy and dark, like a nasty little beast that wanted, no needed to be fed. Donna stared back at her, sniffling several times. She tried to look away from Alice, but the intensity of Alice's gaze kept drawing her back. "What's your problem?" she finally snapped.
"For the sake of your son, you really need to stop," Alice said, cryptically. "He deserves a mother who doesn't nod off."
Dean stared between the two women. How did Alice know his mom needed medicine? How did she know that when she got medicine, she would often nod off. Was Alice Nolan a doctor or something?
"Fuck you," Donna said, but she didn't deny the accusations either. "I've got it under control."
"Yeah, that's why you're shaking and your eyes are jumping around in their sockets," Alice said scornfully, "Look, if it were just you, that's fine, but doesn't your son deserve better?"
Donna snorted. "You're a fine one to judge me, Ganja girl." She looked Alice up and down, taking in her outfit. "Bet you and your bud have had some high times together." She raised her fingers in the air to put imaginary quotes around "bud" and "high."
Now Dean and Cinnamon were staring at the two women, not understanding a word of what they were saying. Dean found himself moving closer to the young girl, suddenly wondering if his mother and hers would fight and if he'd have to protect her. He had done that before, gotten his younger cousin out of the room when things got rough and before they might be dragged into it. He looked around the elevator, realizing there was no place to go, so he stood in front of the girl, putting his back to her, so he could watch the women.
"I haven't touched any bud or had any high times since the day I found out I was pregnant," Alice said, putting her own air quotes around the words. "Because that's the day I realized if I was going to bring a child into this world, I owed it to her to be the best mother I could."
"Yeah, sure," Donna snorted. "Your kid was such a blessed event."
"She was," Alice said. "And even if she wasn't, I still would have thought so when she was born. Doesn't your son deserve a mother who isn't an addict?"
Dean had heard that word before, addict. It was something his father yelled at his mother sometimes and she yelled it right back. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he had figured out it had something to do with the medicine his mom and her friends always seemed to need, he also knew it wasn't a nice word either. He felt confused, part of him admiring Alice for standing up to his mother, but part of him feeling he really should defend her. He felt a tug at his pants and whirled around. Cinnamon was staring at him. "What?"
"Why they fight?" she asked, a slight tremble in her voice as she pointed at the two mothers.
He shrugged, not knowing why they were arguing, but he wanted to assure the girl he was here for her. "Don't worry, I'll protect you."
She looked at him as if she wasn't quite convinced he could live up to that promise, but said nothing.
"I have it under control," Donna repeated. "I'm just uptight being in this elevator. God, can't they get us out?" She fumbled for her cigarettes again.
"Stop!" Alice reached out and put her hand over Donna's wrist, stopping her from getting a cigarette out of her pack.
"You better take your hand off me, right now," Donna said, her voice low and calm, but there was something in that voice, as if the beast that lived just behind her eyes was speaking.
Dean moved closer to Cinnamon. He had heard the beast talk before, and usually after the beast spoke, the words stopped and the actions began.
"No!" Alice said quickly. "I want those. Give me your cigarettes and I'll give you something better."
Donna's other arm, the one not holding the cigarettes was curled up in a fist again, and she was raising it, but when she heard the word "better" she stopped. "What are you talking about?"
Alice shifted so her purse was in front of her and let go of Donna's hand. Her purse was a huge thing, brightly colored. She felt around until she pulled out a small yellowish brown bottle with a white lid, one that Dean knew doctor medicine came in. Doctor medicine was different from the medicine his mom and her friends brought home, but his mom stared at the little bottle with an eager look on her face. "I had a broken arm about a year ago," Alice explained. "The pain was really bad, so the doctor gave me Vicodin. But it made me so stupid that I only took it at night to fall asleep. I still have five or six in here."
Donna stared at the bottle with a look of longing and hunger that was raw and painful. The beast in her eyes and voice was almost salivating. "Give me one," she demanded.
"Give me your cigarettes and I'll give you one," Alice said calmly.
"That's not fair!"
"Yes it is," Alice disagreed. "You give me your cigarettes, I give you one Vicodin. But, when we get out of here, I'll give you back your cigarettes and give you the rest of the bottle. As long as you promise me you won't take another one until you're home. I don't want you driving around with your boy, high."
"We took the bus," Donna said, not taking her eyes off the bottle. "But, whatever, it's a deal." She handed the cigarettes to Alice, who popped them in her purse. Alice opened the bottle, shook out one pill and handed it to her. Donna took it and swallowed it quickly. "You better not mess me over when we're out of this. I get the rest of the bottle and the smokes, right?"
The look in Alice's eyes was one of shame, but she nodded. "I keep my promises." She put the lid back on the bottle and put it in her pocket. Then, she walked back over to her daughter and Dean. "Thank you," she said, smiling at Dean.
Dean knew that Alice had figured out he was protecting her daughter and moved away quickly, not sure if she was really grateful for his protection. Sometimes his mother sneered at him when she had discovered he and his cousin hiding in his room.
Alice sat on the floor and put her daughter back in her lap, but sideways this time, so Cinnamon's legs dangled off her mother's. She leaned up against her mother's chest and looked at Dean. "I Cinnamon," she said.
"I'm Dean," Dean mumbled.
"I had a ear ache," Cinnamon continued. "I had to take big, pink pills, but they're all gone an' I feel better now. But I have to go to the doctor, anyway."
"I'm not sick," Dean said. "I don't know why I have to go to the doctor."
"It's your physical," Donna snapped. She wasn't pacing, but she still looked uptight. "But you won't have to go today. When we get out of here, we're going home. I'll take you another day."
Alice looked as if she might say something, but the phone rang again. This time, Donna answered it. "Yeah!" The conversation Donna had with whoever was on the other end seemed a bit more one sided that Alice's conversation had been, with very few pauses to hear what the other person was saying. "Yeah, how long? What? You're kidding. The fire department can't get here any sooner? Isn't it their job to rescue people trapped in an elevator or something? Funny, I'd better pay my taxes on time, but when I need service, I don't get it very quickly. We got two really sick kids who need to see the fucking doctor." Pause. "That long? Sonofabitch, these kids could die in this elevator, but you don't give a fuck, do you?" Pause. "Yeah, well, hurry." She slammed the phone back in the receiver and slumped onto the floor saying nothing.
When she stayed silent, Alice spoke up. "So, what did they say?"
Donna stared at her. "They said the repairmen just arrived and they think they can fix it. They have a call in with the fire department, but they can't send anyone over for an hour or so. So we're stuck." While she still was aggravated, there was a little less tension in her eyes. Clearly the Vicodin was working and it was calming down that angry little beast. "Are you sure I can't have my smokes back?"
"Not until we're rescued," Alice said.
"Shit," Donna muttered. She leaned against the wall, but said nothing else.
A few minutes passed with no one speaking. Then Dean started to hear something, sounds like metal hitting metal, very faint but still, he did hear them. He looked over at Alice and Cinnamon who both had their heads tipped to one side. "You hear it?" he asked. He didn't look at his mother, sometimes she didn't hear things as well as he did.
Alice nodded, smiling at Dean.
"Is it kay?" Cinnamon asked.
Alice nodded. "This means they're working on the elevator, trying to fix it so we can get out of here," she explained, wrapping her arms around her daughter and hugging her tightly.
Dean nodded. He was looking at Cinnamon's hair. It was lighter and brighter than her mothers and it reminded him of something, but he didn't know what.
"I want to leave," Cinnamon said, sniffling a little. "I don't like it here."
"Welcome to the club," Donna said, snorting. "First intelligent thing to come out of your mouth, there's hope for you, yet."
Dean looked at the floor. Cinnamon was a little kid, younger than him, why did his mother have to be so mean? He looked at Alice, wondering if she would yell at his mother.
Alice ignored Donna and hugged Cinnamon tighter. "I know you're bored, honey. How about if I sing you a song?"
Dean's ears perked up. He liked the radio and sometimes when his mother was really happy, she sang. She didn't sing as good as the people on the radio did, but he generally associated singing with people being happy. He felt this elevator could use a little happiness about now.
"What you gonna sing?" Cinnamon asked, looking at her mom.
"Do you have something you want to hear?" Alice asked. Cinnamon shook her head. Alice looked over at Dean, which startled him. "Do you have any songs you want to hear?"
Dean shook his head quickly. He did have songs he liked, but he couldn't think of any of them now.
"That's fine." Alice looked up at the ceiling, thinking for a moment, then smiled. "How about this one?" She leaned back, and started singing:
Sugar magnolia, blossoms blooming, heads all empty and I don't care,
Saw my baby down by the river, knew she'd have to come up soon for air.
Dean stared, amazed. This woman sounded as good as any voice that came out of the radio, maybe better than some! He had never heard that before, people who sounded as good as the radio or TV. He always thought that they did something vaguely magical to make people sound so good when they sang, but nope, apparently those folks singing on the radio and TV were just good. The song was soft and mellow, and even though he wasn't sure of all the words, he just felt nice hearing it, like the song was written to make you feel better when you heard it.
"Oh Ke-rist, the Grateful Fucking Dead," Donna said, but she looked more amused than angry. She shook her head, laughing. "Figures, Ganja girl would sing the Gratefuckngful Dead."
Dean stared at his mother and so did Cinnamon, but Alice ignored her and kept right on singing:
Sweet blossom come on, under the willow, we can have high times if you'll abide
We can discover the wonders of nature, rolling in the rushes down by the riverside.
Then, much to his surprise, Cinnamon joined in with her mother at the next part, clapping her hands. She didn't seem to know all the words, but she knew enough of them. Dean was amazed, how had this little girl learned to do that? To sing such a complicated song with a lot of hard words:
She's got everything delightful, she's got everything I need,
Takes the wheel when I'm seeing double, pays my ticket when I speed
Dean wanted to ask her how she knew the song, how she had learned it, but he didn't want to interrupt, so he listened. On the next part, Cinnamon stopped singing and just listened, but her head moved in time with the music:
She comes skimmin' through rays of violet, she can wade in a drop of dew,
She don't come and I don't follow, waits backstage while I sing to you.
Well, she can dance a Cajun rhythm, jump like a willys in four wheel drive.
She's a summer love for spring, fall and winter. She can make happy any man alive.
Sugar magnolia, ringing that bluebell, caught up in sunlight, come on out singing
I'll walk you in the sunshine, come on honey, come along with me.
She's got everything delightful, she's got everything I need,
A breeze in the pines and the sun and bright moonlight, lazing in the sunshine yes indeed.
Sometimes when the cuckoo's crying, when the moon is half way down,
Sometimes when the night is dying, I take me out and I wander around, I wander 'round.
"Wow!" Dean said, when they were done. "You sing like ladies on the radio!"
"Thank you," Alice said, smiling at the boy. "I like to sing. I took lessons when I was younger."
"Sing another one!" Dean said, not realizing that he was demanding, not really asking
Alice smiled. "All right." She thought again and then broke into another song, this one about her Uncle John who had a band, which he liked too. And after that she sang another song, this one about a truck, which was really cool, because it was about a truck, but it wasn't a little kid song, it was an adult song.
Donna was leaning against the wall by the panel, her eyelids heavy, but she was quiet and said nothing until the phone rang again. She reached up, fumbling until she got the door open and the receiver out, then brought it to her ear. The singing stopped while she spoke. "Yeah?" Pause. "Yeah, we're still here." Pause. "Yeah, I'd like to get out before Hippie Mom turns my son into some pansy flower child with all her goddamned Grateful Dead singing." Pause. "Okay, that's cool. Hurry up though, any moment she's gonna start singing Casey Jones." She stood up to hang up the phone.
"I don't sing Casey Jones," Alice said, the faint trace of a grin on both her face and in her voice. "It's too cliche and my least favorite of all Grateful Dead songs."
"Says the woman who sang, 'Truckin'," Donna said, but her tone wasn't vicious, more as if she was either resigned that she was stuck on an elevator with a human Mockingbird, or actually kind of enjoying it, but didn't want to admit it. "The fire department just arrived, they're going to bust us out of here, soon."
The words were barely out of her mouth, when there was a pounding that sounded like it was coming from just above them. "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT?" A voice screamed.
"WE'RE FINE!" Alice said, in the loudest voice Dean had heard her use, so he was a little startled.
"GREAT!" the call came back. "I'M FROM THE FIRE DEPARTMENT AND WE'RE GOING TO GET YOU OUT SOON, JUST HANG TIGHT."
The four of them looked at each other as if confirming with each other that they had heard the words correctly. Then Alice yelled back, "THANK YOU!"
Nobody spoke anymore, and the sounds of banging got louder. Dean looked over at Cinnamon, knowing that they would soon be out of her and knowing he would likely never see the girl again. He had been staring at her hair on and off, trying to think of what the color reminded him of. He wanted to do something else, too, but had been afraid. But knowing time was short, he decided to take a chance. He reached out and touched her hair, gently, lightly, running his fingertips over it.
She stared at him and he waited for her to shriek or cry, but she didn't, she just looked at him, eyes wide and round. Alice smiled. "She does have pretty hair, doesn't she?"
Dean nodded and started to say something, but was interrupted by a thud coming from above and then the sound of the escape hatch door being opened. They all looked up and the face of a man appeared above them, smiling. "Hey, folks, stand back, I'm coming down."
After all the waiting, things started happening quickly once the fireman came down. Above them was another fireman and soon enough, Cinnamon was handed up from the first to the second. Then it was Dean's turn and he was passed up. He was aware he was in a small square place that the ceiling seemed miles away. He was handed to someone else, who lifted him over his head and then someone was looking in through a set of elevator doors that were opened into this little space. He was grabbed again by this man and when he put him down, Dean was in the hall. Cinnamon was there too, looking anxious. A woman who was dressed like the firemen was talking to her, letting her know her mother would be coming out shortly. Dean walked over to her.
"You okay, Cinny?" he asked.
She nodded. "I want my mommy, though, " she murmured softly.
As if she had been granted a wish, her mother's head appeared and the same man who had helped Dean out of the elevator shaft was helping Alice in. The fire-woman held onto both children's arms tightly. When she got into the hall, she stepped out of the way quickly. Only when Alice was safely in the hall did the fire-woman let go. Alice dropped to her knees and held her arms out. Cinnamon went running, throwing herself into them. "Mommy!"
Dean stood there, wondering why Cinnamon's mother still had one arm open, then he realized she was giving him permission to hug her and he was amazed. His own mother rarely hugged him, yet Cinnamon's mother was willing to give him a hug and she hardly knew him. He walked over hesitantly, but when he was close enough, Alice pulled him into her so the three of them were hugging. "You both were such brave, wonderful, children," Alice said. "I'm so proud of you both!" She kissed the top of Cinnamon's head, then Dean's and for a moment, Dean wanted to wrap his arms around both of them, cling on tightly and never let go.
Then his mother was there and she didn't look too happy about the group hug going on. She grabbed Dean's hand and pulled him away and looked at Alice. "You owe me," she said softly.
Alice stood up, nodding. She reached into her purse and pulled out the package of cigarettes and the yellow/brown medicine bottle. Dean noticed they were trying to make sure no one in the hall (and there were a lot of people around) saw the bottle. His mother took it, keeping it covered with her palm and quickly pocketed it. Alice suddenly wrapped her arm around his mother and whispered in her ear, but Dean heard it. "Don't you dare take another one until your son is safe. And try to get some help, okay? If not for yours, then for your son's sake."
Dean didn't understand what she meant by that, but he had a feeling it had something to do with his mom liking medicine and that addict word. He thought it was nice of Alice to say something, but he also knew it wouldn't do any good and when the two women drifted apart and he saw the smirk on his mother's face, he knew he was right.
There were a lot of people around, asking if they were okay, but it wasn't long before it was clear that all four of them were fine and they were allowed to leave. Both women headed for the stairs, Dean and his mother to go down, Cinnamon and hers to go up.
"Pennies!" Dean said suddenly as they were near the ground floor.
"Pennies?" His mother stared at him as if he'd managed to grow himself a second head. "What do you mean, pennies?"
Dean smiled. "Cinnamon's hair. It's the color of new pennies," he explained. "I knew it was the color of something, but I couldn't remember what!" He almost wished he could run back into the building, find her, and tell her. Although she probably already knew that.
"Who cares?" his mother said.
"I do," Dean said, a bit defiantly. "I like the color. I think it's pretty."
"Just beautiful," his mother mumbled.
"She's pretty," Dean said stubbornly, determined to be disagreeable to his mother. "She's very pretty.'
"Fucking beautiful," His mother muttered, clearly wanting to end the subject. "Maybe someday you'll marry her."
The End.
Author's Notes: Again, I have not abandoned The Girl Who Lives, I assure you of that. I meant to just jot down the idea for this, figuring I'd work on it later, but for some reason, my muse wanted to write it and made it clear that until I did, it would sulk in a corner and not help me at all with The Girl Who Lives. I often picture my muse as a spoiled rotten little girl who has to have it her way and her way alone. I both love and hate her. Her name is Aoide. I named her so that when I swear at her, I can distinguish her from other people in the room, including friends, cats, and S/O, so they don't get snippy with me.
Again, though Ablivion's story, Trapped in an Elevator With the Shield is what inspired this. I mention it so now that you're finished with this story, you can go read that one, because it's always good to follow up one elevator story with another.
The song Alice Nolan sang was Sugar Magnolia by The Grateful Dead. My mother used to sing that to me, along with Uncle John's Band, Truckin', Ripple, and many others.
Before people say, "How come Dean doesn't remember meeting Cinnamon" or vice versa, keep in mind that they were both pretty young. I've heard stories of people who dated, got married, and then found out later they were in the same first grade class or something. And if you're thinking, "But this was a traumatic experience, of course they would remember it!" Not necessarily. When I was five, I got covered in ladybugs. I mean covered. My dad sat me on a log on the beach and then he turned around and instead of a kid, he had what looked like a statue of a kid entirely covered in ladybugs. Apparently they go in my clothes, down my throat, in my eyes, in my ears. I don't remember any of it. I never even developed a fear of ladybugs (I actually won't kill them if they get in my house, I take them outside) I figure if I could have no memory of that incident, Dean and Cinnamon could completely forget about being stuck in an elevator together as children. But, the softer side of me likes to think that maybe, subconsciously, they did recognize each other, that's why they were so attracted to each other when they met.
Please R/R if you're so inclined. Again, I know I'm a broken record, but it's the reviews that keep me going. So... do you want me to beg? Okay. "Pretty please, with sugar on top? c'mon, please?"
Can I get off my knees now?
Till next time...
Peace Out
Willow