Ellis studied Nick. He studied everything about him. He studied the way Nick was hunched over slightly, how his eyelids twitched on certain notes, how small smiles or frowns touched his lips as the melodies grew faster or slower, how his body moved differently with each song.
Nick was speaking so many volumes, screaming so many things without saying a word. Listen close, my friend—he seemed to be saying—listen close and you'll understand everything. You'll understand why I am so troubled, why I cry, why I won't smile or laugh, or meet your eyes. If you look closely, you'll know exactly what I need. So please, don't look away; you may miss something.
There had been a time in Ellis' life when he would have been too nervous, too damn unsure to trust himself to help another in such a state of mind like Nick's. Sure, he was always there for his friends and his Ma when they were down and often his goofy antics were enough to make them smile—but, this was different. This was way, way different. At times Ellis felt like he said all the wrong things or simply failed at getting his point across; like maybe he just wasn't the right guy to be doing any of this. At one time he probably would have become too flustered, too afraid to keep trying—too afraid he would make things worse. There had been a time…
…When he had first arrived on this cruise ship—beaten up and bruised, but so damn happy to be there—he had still felt invincible—indestructible. Like nothing in the world could hurt him! Man, he couldn't wait, couldn't wait to tell his buddy Keith about all the adventures! He couldn't wait to find Ma and Dave and tell them all about the crazy times he had just endured! Aw, man, Ma! You won't believe it! We went through Whispering Oaks! And Keith, you should have been there when went through the swamp! Dave, Dave! We were in the mall and Jimmy Gibbs Jr's car was there! I know, man!
But that attitude, that simple-minded naiveness he had relied so hard on during their fight to New Orleans had all but shattered when he stood there holding a list of confirmed deceased in his hands. He had probably changed when he had found his neighbor on that list, that nice lady at the grocery store, his favorite high school teacher from way back when, his mother, his friend Dave and some of his high school buddies. It may have been then that he had realized he wasn't indestructible, or invincible. That everyone around him had suffered and that suffering had been very real…
But for sure he had changed when he had walked into that brightly lit room, the one that had been modified as a holding cell for the insane. For sure he had changed, grown up and understood that the suffering people went through was real and not some game that he could restart and try again if he didn't like the outcome.
For sure he had changed when Keith had snarled at him, tried to bite him, scratch him and cursed him. For sure, he had changed when Keith had screamed at him—told him that he was dead—told him that he wasn't real. For sure, then, he had grown up while standing there with tears streaming down his face, unable to say anything to the man that had been his best friend since the day he could walk. In that instant he had grown up.
Watching that savage man—the one that had Keith's face—staring at that person that had once shared so many memories with him, Ellis had understood that there was no such thing as a fairy-tale ending. He had been naïve—stupid really, to think that he would walk out of this infection unscathed. He had been so very stupid to think that this had all been a game. But this was real life and it had no redo button.
So, maybe it was because he hadn't been able to save Ma, or Dave, or Keith that Ellis felt obligated—no, determined, to save Nick. Before Ellis still sat the shadow of a man he had once known. There were still glimpses of that confident, cocky conman. There was still hope. Nick was still in there. He just needed help finding himself again. Ellis swore he would be the man to save him.
The mechanic shifted forward, feeling his body ache with the motion. He wondered briefly when it was the last time he had moved. He slowly got to his feet, rubbing his hands down his sides, trying to bring the feeling back to them.
As much as Ellis didn't want to make Nick stop, he knew it was growing late. They had been sitting here for hours and hours and Nick had just been playing and playing and playing. His hands had to hurt by now, but if they did, it didn't show. He seemed to have just as much vigor now as when he began.
"Nick?" One two three four, one two three four and again! The song continued undisturbed. "Nick… Ya should eat somethin'. Ya haven't eatin' nothin' yet today." Neither had Ellis, for that matter and the mechanic knew he was, at least, starving. Nick had to be too. He probably just hadn't noticed. "Hey…? Are ya listenin'…?"
…He had played this song at his sister wedding. How long ago had that been? Fifteen years? Jesus, it's really been that long, hasn't it? Nick's head dipped down slightly as the song called for a more dramatic flutter of his fingers. Behind his closed eyes he could see all those people, hand in hand, twirling, close, so close, smiling and laughing, laughing so joyfully. He could see his sister—beautiful in white, blushing and so in love. Her husband—Michael—a man that Nick had always secretly approved of, held her close. He was smiling too. Nick had to admit, they looked lovely together. He was envious.
Thinking back to that time, so long ago, Nick could recall how his sister had practically begged him to play at her wedding. He had stubbornly refused at first, of course. He just had to make her beg. It was just a little brother thing. After she had stroked his ego for a good month or two he had finally caved in. She had refused to let anyone but him play—and, damn, he had sounded good. Real good. She had cried with delight at the end of the night. Just held him and thanked him, told him how much she loved him, how much she cared, how grateful she was to have him.
He had be twenty years old then…
And it was the last time he had held her—he had seen her. It wasn't long after that day that life had swept him into a world of gambling and conning. He had never once come back home after that. He had never even said goodbye. Not even a 'hi, how are you?' after that day. He wondered if they ever went looking for him. Why didn't he ever go home? Why didn't he ever call? What had stopped him? Why had he pushed them out of his life so easily?
And now he couldn't call, he couldn't apologize. Never, never, never. Because everyone was dead. Surely, most certainly, without any doubt they were all dead.
His hands lifted for the first time from the piano in hours and came to cover his face. He sunk forward and his body shook painfully. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I never said goodbye and I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry. I never meant to leave. Did you worry? Did you even care? Did you look for me? Did mom cry? Did dad try to tell her I would come back? Did you ever tell Eric that I was sorry about what I said? Did he ever forgive me?
Ellis moved instantly to Nick's side the moment the music stopped. He stood hesitantly over the other man, unsure how what to do. Nick was falling apart before his eyes, absolutely crumbling. He was losing him and he was losing him fast.
Instinctively Ellis found himself descending onto Nick with a tight embrace. He felt Nick hiccup against the touch and the conman lifted his head up long enough to note who it was that held him. Nick tried to smile, maybe to show his thanks, but his sobs just refused to let him.
"Come on, Nick, let's go…" Ellis whispered softly in his ear.
Nick stood obediently and when he did, he became aware of how bad his back hurt. His muscles tensed and burned with each movement. The man supposed he deserved it. He took in a shuddering breath and, for the moment, stifled his tears. Ellis gave him a lingering look before turning to, presumably, bring them back to their room. Nick followed closely.
Just stay close. Don't let him out of your sight, you can't lose him too. Nick reached out urgently and grabbed at Ellis arm and his hand caught Ellis'. Nick could see the way Ellis blinked, the way his mouth parted slightly, how his breath hitched slightly—he saw the way the other man responded to that brave touch. But he didn't pull away. Instead, Ellis smiled and his grip tightened almost as if to say, 'I'm still here an' I ain't goin' nowhere."
Nick wept with this realization.
A/N: Mentally, emotionally, I am not all right. I confess this. I would apologize for writing in this mental state, but, in fact, I can't stop. If I stop I have nothing. Just my own thoughts, and I can't handle that. I need this. Bare with me… and thank you. Please be patient.