"The Mistaken M. Jones"

36. Got Your Back

March 2012 – Lima, Ohio

She wouldn't let him in at first. He hadn't been able to get the previous day out of his head, when she'd just suddenly kissed him, but soon after that she'd asked him to leave, not because she was upset at him but because she needed to be alone, so he had gone. But he had needed to talk to her, to make sure they were okay and she knew he would be whatever she needed to be and not be in her life; he just wanted to be near her while he could.

But he'd knocked at her door, and he knew she was inside, and she wouldn't open the door. He'd actually started to walk back down the hall toward the elevator when he heard her door open.

"Can you do something for me right now?" she'd called to him, and as he turned he wasn't sure if that something would be 'leave me alone' or 'come here.'

Now he was sitting in her apartment, watching as she sat up in her bed, back against the wall, legs crossed, eyes shut. Maybe it was the knowledge that some of the kids from her school had found where she lived and tried to get up here, as far as they could tell, but she wanted him to keep lookout.

"Are you going somewhere?" he'd asked, not seeing why she couldn't do this herself. She'd just given a knowing sort of smile and then she'd explained it to him, as best she could.

"Remember how I told I was here to help a friend? She's called the Doctor; she's the alien," she revealed. He took it in stride, so she went on. "Before she sent me here, she taught me to do something, so I could contact her, it's like… not telepathy, but close. I send the message," she pointed to her head, "And the Doctor, she has this thing, psychic paper, and the message goes to it." He was staring at her like he wasn't entirely sure a third eye wouldn't sprout from her forehead. "Just stay there, and if anyone comes knocking…"

"I'll keep them away… Got it… Yes." He took a chair, posted it near the door, and he sat. When she took her position and closed her eyes, he hesitated before speaking. "How long does it usually take?"

"Depends," she said, eyes still closed. Even then he didn't have to ask 'on what,' because he understood she meant 'on if I have silence.' He was quiet for a few seconds more, but he couldn't keep from asking.

"Does it hurt?"

"No," she breathed.

After that, he'd let her be. Whatever he needed to say, he figured he was better off waiting. So he did. He watched her the whole time, watched how calm she looked. If they didn't know what she was doing, they might think she was meditating. But he knew, and he thought he could almost see it, how her mind reached out. He had no idea what she was trying to tell this friend of hers, but he understood it was important. Every once in a while he would try and listen hard, to make sure no one was coming up the hallway. The one time he heard something, he stood, very quietly, and he pulled the door open just a sliver. It was only Gemma's neighbor returning with groceries, so he shut the door again and resumed his post.

It took ten minutes before she finally opened her eyes, and when he saw her wavering, just a little bit, he moved up toward her, sat next to her.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, fine," she promised, rubbing at her head. "I'm getting used to it, but I don't think I ever will, not completely," she admitted.

"So what happens now?" His hand was at her back, rubbing mindlessly so it might help her recover. She was aware of it, and whether or not it was encroaching on her boundaries, she didn't really mind, because it did help.

"Well," she sighed. "She'll send me a reply… most times it's already there before I've even sent the message. Time travel, you know," she shrugged.

"Sure," he nodded, which made her laugh. "So she doesn't just send a message back to your head or…"

"No, good old fashion paper, writing, in an envelope." His hand stilled.

"An envelope?" he asked.

"Yeah, like this, see?" she reached over to the hiding place where she kept the previous messages. She showed him the small blue envelopes, the edges torn open.

"And like this?" he reached into his back pocket and produced a small blue envelope, identical to the others except for the part where it wasn't ripped open yet.

"Where'd you get that?" she took it from him, turning it around in her hands. On the front, the letters were traced in gold. G.L.

"It was in my mailbox when I got home," he explained. "I was bringing it to you, figured it'd be as good a reason as any to stop by. But then you asked me to stand guard and I sort of forgot about it." He paused, while she kept staring at the envelope. "Why was it in my box, what does it mean?" It couldn't even have been an error on the mailman's part, could it? Their boxes were not close to each other.

"It means the Doctor knows about you, knows that you'd bring it to me," she sighed.

"Why?" he frowned, not sure he got it.

"That would be her way of telling me she knows about you, knows that you know."

"And now she wants me to… back off?"

"I don't know," Gemma shook her head, tearing the side of the envelope and pulling the note from within. Walter didn't want to intrude, but it was stronger than him and he tried to see what was on the card.

There weren't words, only some numbers. It didn't even look like coordinates.

"What does that mean?" he asked, but she was already fishing in her hiding place again, pulling out a small book. She leafed through it, looking at the card again. The pages of the notebook were neatly handwritten. Whatever she was looking for, Gemma found it, and when she did, she smiled. "Gemma? What does it say?"

She wasn't paying attention; she was still rereading what the page said, the one she'd been told to look up. The message had been cryptic when she'd first read the page, when she'd read the whole thing, but now, with the context she had, it suddenly made sense.

"Oh, well it's about time," she beamed.

TO BE CONTINUED (TOMORROW)