A/N: I'm SO sorry this took so long to update. I tried and tried to write it, but nothing would come out. I hope you like it.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters... or Dancing with the Stars.
A/N part 2: This chapter hasn't been beta'd. All mistakes are mine. Be gentle.
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Chapter 12: The Dean
She stood alone.
Center stage
A crowd of faces she didn't recognize surrounded her.
She was in a gymnasium. That fact, she knew, she could be certain. The faces, mean and angry, belonged to bodies sitting on bleachers. If looks could kill, she knew she was a goner. Proudly housed on the wall behind the mob was painted an emblem which read Harbor School.
The unknown faces began to fade and shift- blend and contort- into the background.
She couldn't look at the carousal of blurred colors, angry countenances. Instead, she looked below her and noticed that a podium stood not three inches in front of where she was standing. On it, she saw a piece of paper with undecipherable words scribbled.
The faces regained shape again. One look at them and she almost wished they hadn't.
Angry faces.
Malicious faces
Uncaring faces.
All looking, concentrating, mocking, snarling, laughing, mocking....
.... at her.
She felt her mouth open and heard the words "Welcome to the Senior Lock-in." escape her dry, quivering lips.
Again, the nameless faces glared at her, and she couldn't figure out why. Why they were so angry?
Automatically, her hand slid down through her hair.
Slick. Perfect.
Her skirt...
Down and wrinkle free.
Her shirt....
Light pale blue, all buttons buttoned. Nothing to stare at. Light blue, she remembered, was one of the colors that looked best on her. The other was red.
String of pearls... delicately laid around her slim neck. Perfect.
Nothing for these people to hate. Nothing for them to not like. No reason for their ugly glares.
She tried to say something else.... To read from the page on the podium, but she couldn't. The letters were scribbled... didn't make sense. "Spit it out Traylortrash." A husky male voice called out from the crowd.
"Heard the dean prefer she swallow, actually." A female voice countered. Laughter followed.
"Open your mouth, Taylor!"
"It's not like she doesn't know how to use it."
Girls snickered. Boys laughed. The sounds, loud and buzzing, rang through her ears like a swarm of angry hornets. The viciousness made her stomach churn. Her chest tightened as she looked for somewhere- anywhere- to escape. The first exit was blocked by her mother. Veronica's eyes were steely shards and a smirk rose on her hard lips. "Taylor, I told you. Forcing people to spend time with you would backfire. No wonder you have no friends. What did I ever do to deserve a disappointment of a daughter as you? Tell me that." Her arms crossed, her eyes rolled, and her words cut through Taylor's heart.
"That's not true, Mom. I have friends." she shouted. The assembly erupted in uproarious laughter.
"Who? The Dean?" a boy called. She cut her eyes to where the voice emitted, but saw no one but Jack, her landlord, standing next to the other exit. He was the only one not laughing. He looked concerned for her. Before she could move, to reach out to him, he was gone. Vanished like a ghost.
She had to make the laughter stop. She had to make them see. "Ryan. Ryan Atwood is my friend." she answered, shoulders back, head held as high as she could muster. The laughter didn't die. In fact it rose. "Why are you doing this!?!?" she asked. Even though the words escaped her lips in a whisper, it echoed through the room like a breaking ocean wave.
"Why do you think?" A familiar voice called. Through the blur of faces, one began coming into focus.
Ryan.
She felt herself relax a bit at the familiarity. He wasn't angry like her mother. He wasn't gone like Jack. He seemed calm. He would help her. He'd make them see that she wasn't an awful, terrible person. At least she didn't think she was. He'd protect her.
He was smiling. Not like the rest of the crowd. His expression was warm, not exactly matching the tone in which his words were spoken. She knew she probably shouldn't trust him, didn't even really know him. But she did. She wanted too. "Ryan, what's going on?"
He stood and slowly began walking from the bleachers toward her, his hands casually behind his back. "Everyone's just mad, Taylor. They don't see you like I do. All they see is the facade."
Again, instinctively, she felt her hair, her clothes. He softly laughed, now next to her. "The facade, Taylor, the outside is perfect. But the inside--" He moved his hands from behind his back. Looking down she saw the back of an antique silver and very pretty mirror. "The inside is what I see. What I know to be true--" He turned the glass to her causing her to scream. The reflection was the same horrid, contorted face as her dream. Her hair matted to her head. Her eyes wide and bloodshot. Her mouth housed razor sharp teeth. She smacked the mirror out of his hand, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
When she looked back at him, he was no longer smiling. His features had turned hard and cold. "That's the monster inside, Taylor. These people here hate you because of the act you put on. I hate you for the monster inside. Amnesia or not... It's still there. Don't you wish that I didn't see you so clearly?"
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Sweat beaded on her forehead as a scream erupted from the room. It took a moment for her to realize that the sound was her own. Shaking, she sat up in her bed, pulled her legs to her chest and began rocking. She wanted to know why she kept having the same dreams about the same monster-- how evil or manipulative she had been before the amnesia-- and why she couldn't just let it go?
She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't stop to wonder where she had woken up, or notice that she wasn't alone.
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"Where do you think you're going?"
Ryan stopped packing long enough to notice who it was then returned to his job. He knew how it looked: Him. Packing in the middle of the night. The urge to grab the hoodie was hard to resist even for him.
He knew what it looked like, but it didn't mean that was what was happening.
"Dude, she's only been gone, like, a few weeks. Give it time." His companion protested, scanning the room with interest and even envy. For a brief second, envy won out and he went into an inward place of covetness. Ever since the entire Cohen family had been exiled to the Robert's home after the earthquake, Seth had been staying in the regrettably pink room, watching his manhood (along with his general hygiene) slip away. As it was, he and Summer were well on their way to becoming an old married couple before they were twenty-- or even married.
But Ryan... he had the manly blue room previously occupied by Neil Roberts, now renown Seattle doctor.
For Ryan's part, he took the brief span of Seth's daydreaming to enjoy some quiet reflection. It didn't last long however. Snapping back into reality, Seth casually entered the room, nearing the bed where Ryan was busy throwing clothes in his old black duffel. "You're gonna hurt yourself again, you know."
"I'm fine." Ryan huffed for the millionth time. He was tired of telling people that. He wished they would believe him, even if it was a total lie. His back hurt less, but emotionally not so much. He missed Taylor. He never thought those three words would apply to him. "You were there, Seth. You heard the doctor. He said no more restrictions. I'm fine." Million and one
"Yeah, fine. but not running away fine."
He cut his eyes to his increasingly annoying brother. "I'm not running away, Seth."
"Oh yeah, and I'm not a virgin." he answered incredulously.
Ignoring that, Ryan went back to packing.
"Look," Seth went on, never deterred by Ryan's lack of communication skills. "This is classic Ryan Atwood. You couldn't protect the girl. The girl got hurt. The girl left. You, being you, blame yourself because of course, you cause the earthquake and you caused the bookshelf to fall... woe is you, blah blah. So you, being as we already established Ryan Atwood, you run. You flee. You give up. You leave. You pack and go away. You've done it for years. Why should this be any different?"
Throwing his last shirt in the bag, Ryan straightened his stance and faced his brother head on. "Are you finished now?"
"Let me think.." Seth did some fancy counting miming on one hand. "No, I'm not done as a matter of fact. You can't leave because you have a family who loves you."
"I'm not leaving."
His words weren't heard. "And Mom. What would Mom think? With the baby coming?"
"I'm not leaving."
"You always come back, that's a given, but the man hours we, and by we I mean me, have to put in to get you back. I just can't do it again, Ryan. I can't."
"I'm sorry this is so hard for you." he answered with sarcasm. "But I'm not leaving."
Seth raised his brows and pointed to the bag.
"I'm going to LA to see Taylor."
"And she knows this?" Seth asked suspiciously.
Ryan's answer was an annoyed glare.
"Well.... ok then. That changes things."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence though buddy."
"Anytime, look... let me go with you."
"No." he answered without having to think. Seth beat him to the door and blocked the exit.
"What if you hurt yourself again?"
"They have blood banks, Seth." He moved to the left as did his counterpart.
"Ok, what if you get in trouble and need back-up?"
Ryan's raised eyebrow meant, Dude, no offense, but you wouldn't be any help.
"Point taken." Seth responded, again blocking Ryan's move this time to the right. It was beginning to look like an awkward tango on Dancing with the Stars.
The blond sighed heavily while clinching his jaw tightly. He knew Seth was just trying to look out for him and not be the pain in his ass that he was right at that minute. He concentrated on deep cleansing breaths, and on a way to get around Seth.
"Just let me go with you." Seth begged.
"No."
"Please."
"No."
"Please."
"I can make you move." Ryan warned.
"But you won't." Seth countered. "You love me too much."
Ryan couldn't fight the smile crossing his lips. He also couldn't remember the last time he won a fight with Seth. Time for a new tactic.... "What about the 'Mrs.'?"
"You just let me handle her. I'm the man in this relationship."
At that moment, Ryan had to cough and to Seth it sounded incredibly like a word that rhymed with Fullsplit.
"I am the man..."
"Yeah, and she has the two orbs that make you such securely tucked away in a little box in your little pink room. Now, are you coming with me or are we going to continue talking about your manhood?"
Seth paused. "You mean I can go?"
Ryan didn't see the sparkle in Seth's eyes as a good thing. "You're staying in a hotel room." He amended. No sense in trying to stop the inevitable. Seth would bug him until he let him go anyway.
Seth did have the foresight to fight the urge to do the happy snoopy dance instead raising his arms as if in victory. "Wait, where are you staying?"
"Taylor's... I think. Probably." In fact, Ryan hadn't even thought about where he'd stay, or if Taylor would even want him there.
Seth slapped his brother on the back. "Awesome plan, buddy."
"It's a long story."
"So tell me on the way. Come on, help me pack and, oh by the way, tell Summer for me." he added the last part under his breath.
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"Taylor, calm down. It's just me. It's Jack. I heard you screaming and came to check on you."
Her mind wouldn't register. She didn't hear herself screaming any more. But she couldn't place where she was... when she was....who she was... who 'Jack' was...?
Slowly, as her eyes adjusted to the faint lamp light in the room, things began coming back. The where was Los Angeles. The when-- well she definitely wasn't in high school any more. The who-- Taylor Townsend, runaway amnesiac. The Jack-- Jack Hess-- her only friend in LA.
"Jack." she said, frantically combing her fingers through her tousled hair. She didn't want him to see her this way.... not dressed appropriately... Hair not perfect.
"You look beautiful." he smiled, answering her unasked question. She blushed slightly, wondering how he could read her thoughts. Was she that obvious? "I just had a bad dream. That's all. You can leave now." She wanted him to leave. She wanted to be alone and just curl up and possibly cry. If he had heard her from the main house, then she must have been screaming really loud... and from a damn dream. A stupid dream that didn't make any sense.
And to top it off... she was in her kitty cat pajamas... kill. her. now.
Instead of turning and running like any sane man would, or so Taylor thought, Jack stepped closer to her bed. A somewhat comforting smile on his lips. "Tell me about it."
About what? she thought to herself before it hit her what he was talking about. Her mind was too frazzled to focus. "It's nothing. It was stupid."
"Didn't sound stupid." he replied, sitting down on the edge of foot of her bed. For his part, he didn't mind the kitty cat pajamas. In fact, the black tank went well with the deep, rich, purple comforter covering most of her body. He knew keeping his hands to himself would be a problem, but he also knew Taylor didn't need a lover right now.. Now, she needed a friend. "Please. I promise I won't laugh."
"Well--" she wasn't going to tell him everything. No need for this stranger-- this handsome stranger with the piercing blue eyes and amazing smile- to know that she was crazy. Like normal, however, her mouth began going before her brain could stop it. She had already told him half of her nightmare before she knew it, and so she finished the rest out of obligation.
He sat and listened, even smiled when she mentioned his name in it. It was a smile that made Taylor stop speaking for a second... a secretive, knowing smile that she didn't really like. There was a familiarity to Jack that she couldn't place. "And that's when I woke up screaming. I'm sorry. I'm not normally like this. I don't scream.. unless it's called for.. and I'm not one of those girly girlies who scream at horror movies. I mean, not even the Ring, or Friday the 13th, or Mommy Dearest... well, maybe Mommy Dearest, but you had to know my mother to know why, but since you don't, it appears that I'm just rambling and that's what I do. I ramble and ramble and ramble until something stops--"
His lips on hers stopped her from talking. She froze. Unable to move. Unable to think. When he pulled back, his eyes were as shocked as she felt. "I'm sorry. I just... It happened. I'm sorry." And he thought he actually was sorry. Not sorry for the kiss, but sorry for breaking his pact with himself that he would be her friend. And sorry for the conversation that he knew would have to come next, but only because it was major, and could backfire if not handled properly.
"No, don't be. It just took me off guard. I mean, your my landlord--"
"And you're new in town--"
"And I don't really know you that well--"
"--And you have amnesia--"
"--And it wouldn't be--- whoa-- What did you just say?"
Jack grinned. This definitely wasn't the way he had planned on doing this, but now that it was in motion, it couldn't be stopped. "I know about the amnesia, Taylor."
She pulled the covers closer to her like all of her clothes had been ripped off. She felt so vulnerable now.. now that she knew that he knew... but how could he know? "How?"
"Because if you didn't, you would have recognized me?"
"And how would I have recognized you?" she paused to think. "I mean, you kissed me, so obviously you were a boyfriend at some time, but you are way too old for me, maybe a boyfriend of my mother's in which case," She scooted farther away, "Ewwww.."
He had to laugh. "No, not your mother. I used to work at the school you attended. Harbor. I was a dean there."
"And you're kissing me here?"
"Believe me, that wasn't planned." And it wasn't.... for the most part.
"So you knew me in high school? And you just happened to run into me here and thought 'Oh, there's Taylor.. Oh she doesn't recognize me... oh she must have amnesia.. oh I'll invite her to stay in my guest house and then seduce her'" Her ire was beginning to rise. She hated being lied too. It was why she had left Newport in the first place. Now, it seemed that her only friend in LA had been lying to her all these weeks as well. "Get out." she ordered.
"Now, Taylor. It wasn't like that."
"Then what was it like?" He started to answer, but she cut him off. "I don't care. Get out."
He continued to sit facing her, his face grew more amused which made her that much angrier. "Technically, it's my house."
"Technically, I don't give a damn. I signed a lease and until the end of the month it's mine."
"Don't get worked up, Taylor. I didn't tell you that I knew you because I didn't want to upset you."
"Oh, how nice.. how convenient. Lie to the cripple. You, my mom, heck even Ryan probably has..."
The smile on Jack's face faded a bit. "Ryan? Ryan Atwood?"
"Yeah. He's my... well I don't know what he is. Do you know him? And please don't lie to me."
"I knew him. Last I heard he was still hung up on Marissa Cooper."
She sighed automatically, like her body just knew it had to sigh whenever it heard the words Marissa Cooper. "He still is.. a little... I think. Doesn't matter. She died last year."
"Car accident. I heard."
"So, Ryan got all protective on the phone last night--"
"Probably when you told him about me--"
Her brows creased. "Yeah, actually. Anyway, he said he was coming to LA tomorrow." she looked at the clock. "Today, technically, I guess."
"Uh-huh." he rubbed the day old stubble on his face. Even though it was 4 in the morning, he had on black slacks and a light blue button up. He had fallen asleep watching TV and at around 12 he'd decided to go and check on Taylor. He'd been standing in her door frame watching her sleep when the nightmare woke her. "How much do you actually remember about Ryan?"
She shrugged, wondering if there was any reason to stay mad at Jack no matter how much she really wanted to be. "About as much as I remember about everything else... not a lot."
"Uh-huh." he said again. His his tone made her curious.
"Why? What?"
Jack reached up and gently tucked a stray piece of hair back behind her ear. She didn't flinch like she had with Ryan. The reaction, or lack there of, surprised and confused her more. "I knew Ryan when he was in high school." Jack said, remembering the speech he had prepared for this exact conversation should it ever arise. "Ryan Atwood, is-- was, a very troubled and violent young man. He stole a car. Been in numerous fights. Got a girl pregnant when he was sixteen. Bottom line, that boy is dangerous. He uses his fists more than his mind. I would stay away from him if I were you."
"Dangerous?" she asked, disbelieving the man she had grown fond of talking to on the phone was the same violent man Jack was describing.
"Very. He burned down a house. Nearly got expelled at least twice. He isn't a boy to be taken lightly. It seems his father, his biological father, was in jail for beating his mother, his brother and him, among other things. Looks like the apple didn't fall far from the tree."
Jack stood and walked to the door. Before he exited, he turned to say one last thing before he left. Something for her to mull over. "Taylor, I know you are mad at me. You have every right to be. But please believe me. As bad as you might think I am for lying, Ryan Atwood is ten times worse. He's the worst kind of person. One that outwardly is a calm, composed, loving man. On the inside, he's cruel and manipulative. He gets what he wants and doesn't care how. He lets his emotions get the best of him." He rubbed his face, remembering back to a bruise that had been left there once before. "Be careful around him, Taylor. He's not at all how he seems. I"ll see you in the morning."
And with that, the seed was planted.
He walked out, a grin growing on his lips. He hoped it had been enough.
After Jack left, Taylor turned off the lamp, but didn't huddle under the covers. Instead, she just sat there. Alone. In the dark. Jack had given her a lot to think about. She wondered how different she and Ryan could be.. if they both had darkness in them... monsters waiting to come out. He would be there in the morning. The thought made her stomach churn. She ran from the bed to the bathroom where her supper escaped in a few heavy heaves. Composing herself, she returned to her room, pulled out her suitcase, and began packing for the second time.