The heavy oak door shook on its hinges as Hanlon slammed it shut upon entering the brownstone. He had gotten reamed up one side and down the other by his captain and the battalion commander for going up on that damn pole to help Rachel. Unfortunately, Thompson had made it to the firehouse before he did and had literally told on him like a small child telling on a friend; he even had the nerve to point a finger at Hanlon as he entered the common living area. Hanlon scrubbed his hand over his face in anger over how Thompson seemed to be after him now, when the other fireman had been his friend just a couple of weeks ago, welcoming Hanlon by taking him out to a bar with some of the other guys.
Now. Now Thompson acted like he had a personal vendetta against Hanlon, and Hanlon had no clue why. Not wanting to think about it anymore, he walked upstairs to his bedroom, shedding his clothes on the way, dropping them wherever they came off. By the time he reached his bed, he was down to his underwear with his soft, cool bed waiting for him. The emotional and physical stress of the day had taken a toll on him, as he crawled under his quilt and snuggled down into the soft mattress, letting sleep overtake him after sending out a prayer that things would improve. He didn't think he could take anymore setbacks.
As sleep awakened his subconscious, a pair of sparkling brown eyes emerged. Eyes that have haunted him since his accident, but in a good way, always making him feel complete and loved. As sleep totally took over, a new dream emerged for him, one that if he could have remembered was a frequent visitor in his sleep.
He stands by his locker, looking at the other students meandering by, in no hurry to get to their first class. Not like he was in any hurry either, since he had history; not his favorite subject. In fact he forgot he was even taking history at one point, since Coach was always pulling him out to work on offensive plays. He grabs his books and pulls his red and cream letterman's jacket closer to him as he slams his locker closed. He turns toward class but is stopped by a girl with a blond ponytail and red and white cheerleading uniform. His smile turns to a small frown as she gives him a sickening sweet smile in return. He watches others pass by them as she leans up and kisses his cheek, which he immediately wipes off with the sleeve of his jacket. Her green eyes turn cold as she watches him do that, "What the hell are you doing? We're supposed to look like a popular and loving couple. We have a reputation to maintain as the power couple of this school, or did you forget that too?"
He stares at her like she was crazy, because frankly she was, "Um, aren't we taking a 'break' from each other? I don't know why you're so into this charade, and trust me, I try to forget you." He turns away from her deciding that maybe getting to history early might be a good thing, at least a hell of a lot better than dealing with her. He jogs down the hall away from her as she yells after him, when he's stopped by a crowd around the call board, everyone talking excitedly. Why was everyone around the board? His fingers snap when he remembers that the school held open auditions for singing the National Anthem before each game. His friends said only losers would audition for the chance to sing the National Anthem, even though he thought it was pretty cool to do something like that. Didn't like all the great singers get to do that before the Super Bowl?
He stands back against the wall and waits for the crowd to thin out, but then several of his teammates come down the hall with large red and white Seven Eleven cups in their hands. His stomach twists into knots knowing what's about to happen and knowing there isn't a damned thing he can do. A tiny girl with long brown hair pushes her way out of the crowd, a brilliant smile on her face; she's obviously gotten one of the games, but the smile becomes an 'O' of shock when sticky, colored, cold slush is thrown at her not by one jock, but by all three that held cups. His mouth drops open when his blond 'girlfriend' comes up and looks the tiny girl up and down, "Well Stubbles, you're always talking about the rainbow coalition, so we figured we'd make you one," with a flick of her ponytail she walks off leaving the poor girl just standing there, in total shock and mortified. Other students just give her a wide birth and keep walking to class, no one stopping to help her.
"Do you need help?" comes out of his mouth before he can think, looking straight at her shaking body. He's not sure if it's from the cold of the slushies or anger at the goons. All she can do is nod as she squeezes her eyes shut to keep the slush out of them; she probably doesn't even realize who is asking her the question. Dropping his books on the floor, he walks over and grabs hers, tossing them with his. No one was going to bother school books.
He grabs both of her hands, shocked at the warmth the simple touch sends through him as he holds onto her and leads her slowly down the hall. Silence is his only answer when he'd asks her questions as he continues their slow trek to the boys' locker room. He has her stop at the door for a minute before sticking his head in and checking the room before bringing her in slowly, giving a small prayer of thanks that no one sees them come in. Her cute nose scrunches up at the stench as she enters the musty smelling locker room. He grabs a towel off the shelf, wets it and immediately wipes the sticky concoction off of her face, allowing her to finally see who is helping her. As her eyes open, he holds his breath, hoping that she's happy with him or at least appreciative. A very small and timid, "Thank you," comes from her as she keeps her eyes down, embarrassed by her situation.
He can't help himself as he places a finger under her chin and lifts it so that she's looking at him in the eyes, "Hey, it's okay. It's not like you asked to be slushied. I'm sorry about that. The guys just don't know how to be nice, like at all. Anyway, there's the handicap shower stall in the back, I'll grab you my shampoo and stuff and you can clean up and I'll see if I can find any clothes that might fit you. Okay?"
What she says next stops him cold, "Why are you helping me? You're a jock. You're supposed to hate us Gleeks. You're the most popular guy in school, why act like my knight in shining armor?" Confusion mars her very pretty, innocent face as her hands gestures towards him. Her brown eyes look up at him with questions as her mouth purses in concentration as he shifts his weight back and forth, uneasy with her scrutiny.
He holds out his hands in surrender, "Hey, I'm not those guys. I don't bully. I'm the leader; I have to set a good example. Right now it's showing them that it's just not cool to slushy others." Staring into her brown eyes, he hopes to see that she believes him.
"Do you mean set an example or just clean up their messes? Come on. Even your girlfriend slushied me. I mean are you trying to set a good example for her too?" She doesn't try to hide her sarcasm from him. His friends are dicks.
"No. She's just being a bitch. I want to be better than them. I know I'm not, but it would be nice to be." He looks down in surprise as her hand covers his for a just a moment before taking the towel he holds, before walking toward the handicap shower.
She turns her head towards him as she walks away, "For what it's worth. I do think you are better than them, you just don't know how to break free from them." She disappears into the stall and as soon as the shower starts, he takes off to find the tiny girl some clothes. Finding the locker of the smallest guy in school, he quickly twists the lock twice and then hits the sweet spot on the side, popping the lock and displaying the contents. Grabbing the guy's gym clothes, he writes a note about borrowing the uniform and that he'll replace the guy's shirt and shorts, but it's an emergency. "Um, I have some clothes for you. Where would you like me to put them?"
"Just on the bench by the shower please. Are you going to leave then?" Even yelling over the water her voice is still sweet to his ears. He thinks she could be screaming the phone book and her voice would be just as enchanting.
"I'll just stand watch outside the door so no one comes in on you. Give you some privacy to change." He walks around the block partition and sees the bench strewn with the rainbow stained clothes, lacey underwear sitting on top of them. He feels his pants tighten at the sight of the lace, before laying the gym clothes on top of them and turning to leave, but turns the wrong way and faces the steaming shower and the silhouette of a very naked, curvaceous girl. His eyes skim over her body, ending at her beautiful brown eyes sparkling with amusement and shyness.
Hanlon woke with a start, like he did every time he fell asleep, sparkling brown eyes burned into his memory, his heart racing so fast he couldn't even feel it beat. He never remembered anything except for these deep brown, sparkling eyes that he had never seen before. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the back of his hands, and looked at the shuttered windowed, he saw the last bits of twilight disappearing into dark. His stomach grumbled loudly for food, so he got up and quickly dressed in an long sleeved t-shirt and a red, blue, green and white plaid button down, rolling up the sleeves over the t-shirt. Throwing on jeans and brown lace up boots, he grabbed his keys and his granddad's cane, that had sat beside the door for as long as he could remember, before heading out into the crisp New York night, not sure where he was going, but just needing to go.
He started to walk through his Gramercy Park neighborhood, not sure where he was going, just knowing he was hungry and restaurants were only a few blocks away, so he headed that way and figured he would stop when something smelled good enough to make his stomach grumble. As he walked along the autumn colored maple lined sidewalks and dimly lit brownstones, the metal tip of his cane tapping on the sidewalk in perfect rhythm with his gait as he took in his surroundings. He'd been so busy with his recovery and new job he hadn't had time to really look at his new neighborhood, and despite being in a large city, it felt like he was in a close knit town, similar to his old neighborhood in Chicago. It felt like home, especially since his parents had picked out the brownstone and neighborhood many years before, because like they had told him when he said he was moving, "It felt like the neighborhood in Chicago and their town in Ireland. It felt like home."
As he kept walking, leaning on his cane when he felt his balance go off, he stopped suddenly in front of a softly lit window that held a sparkling deep blue drum kit. The lights gleamed off of the cymbals catching Hanlon's eye. He stood there mesmerized by the instrument like a child looking at a Christmas display. A sudden urge to go into the shop to buy and play the magnificent instrument propelled him to open the door that had gilded on the window, *"Zammar".
The store brought instant comfort to Hanlon for some reason. He had never been a huge music person, but since his accident, he had taken a keen interest in it, and now that blue drum kit in the window drew him into the dark wood paneled and softly lit store. A bell chimed above the door signaling to a man, that Hanlon assumed was the owner, to his presence. The man was small, with weathered skin and white tufts of hair surrounding his bald, age spotted head. Wire rimmed glasses covered his clear blue eyes while they rested on his red bulbous nose. He had a wry smile that was pointed at Hanlon, in a knowing way. The man shuffled forward and held out his hand in greeting, where he looked not a year younger than a hundred, yet his hands were deceptively young looking, smooth and soft with long tapered fingers and manicured nails, hands that looked like they could play any instrument they held.
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Hanlon took the man's hand in greeting and was surprised by the strength in his grip.
"Good evening sir. Welcome to Zammar's. I'm the owner, Malachi, is there anything I can help you with, like that drum kit in the window?"
"Well, I was just walking and the drum caught my eye. The thing is though I don't play, but lately I've wanted to play, drums specifically. Is it silly of me wanting to start learning to play the drums now? Don't most people start when they're young?" Hanlon answered quickly, almost embarrassed at the fact he wanted to learn to play.
"Oh no. People learn to play at all ages. I have an eighty year old at the nursing home that is learning to play the piano, because she always wanted to, and now she finally has the time," Hanlon let out a chuckle mirroring the same one Malachi was giving.
Malachi's soft Jewish accent was comforting to Hanlon for some reason so he just listened as the man went on and on about all the people he had given lessons to later in their lives. Movement from the back wall caught Hanlon's eye though. There, looking at sheet music against the back wall was a tiny woman with long brown hair partially hidden by a black beret. She had on a brown and black tiny black skirt with a gold chain encircling her waist and a tight fitting black turtleneck sweater. Hanlon didn't do a good job of hiding his stare, because he heard Malachi's voice right next to ear. "See someone you like Lieutenant Hanlon? That's my new employee, Rachel Berry. I've gotten too old to close up every night, plus my **'ishshah wants me home at a decent hour at least a few nights a week. So I've hired the lovely Rachel to close up for me on some nights. Actually she'll be doing the dinner shift to close so I can actually sit down at my kitchen table to eat. The only thing though is she is such a sweet young thing, it wouldn't be safe for her to lock up by herself and then walk back to her dorm. She needs someone to protect her."
Hanlon responded without even glancing at the owner, "Probably does," even though he knew the neighborhood was relatively safe with middle income families. If the young fireman had paid attention to the old Jewish man, he would have seen a gleam in his bright blue eyes and a knowing smile curve onto his lips.
"Well since we both agree it wouldn't be safe for such a young, beautiful young lady to be here by herself at night, why don't you work with her? Instead of paying you in cash, we can exchange services; you act as security for Rachel and I'll give you drum lessons for free. I think that is an excellent deal Lt. Hanlon." Hanlon's attention was suddenly brought back to the old man when he heard 'excellent deal' since he hadn't made any deal, but he was too late when he heard Malachi call, "Rachel, I have some wonderful news, ***bubbala. Lt. Hanlon is going to be helping you with locking up on the evenings you work. Instead of having to pay him, I just need to give him lessons. I'm such a smart man. Now why don't you get your coat and you and Lt. Hanlon go to the deli down the street and get to know each other since you'll be working together. Now go, shoo bubbala." Hanlon watched in awe as the Malachi talked quickly and didn't seem to bother with the fact that he hadn't agreed to any deal. His head was literally spinning with how quickly the old man spoke. Before he could say that Malachi was seriously mistaken, Rachel had headed behind the back wall where he assumed the practice rooms were.
When the girl was behind the wall, Hanlon hissed at the older man, "Malachi, I didn't agree to be you're security guy. I'm a fireman that doesn't have very good balance and I have my forty-eight hour shifts when I'm not even available to do anything else."
"No worry Finn. No worry. I will get it all worked out so that you and Rachel can spend time together." When he heard Malachi call him Finn, Hanlon's head shot up in shock.
"Why did you just call me Finn? That's not my name." A tinge of anger and worry colored his voice.
"Isn't that what your family calls you, since your father goes by Christopher? Aren't you Christopher Finnegan Hanlon?"
Hanlon was seriously getting creeped out suddenly by the things that Malachi seemed to know about him that he knows he didn't tell him. He started to slowly back himself towards the door to escape, but Malachi must have sensed what he was doing, "Finn? Hanlon? Hanlon. I'm sorry if I offended you. I truly need your help with making sure Rachel is okay on her nights here, please." Hanlon could hear the need in the old man's voice. He was pretty sure Malachi would get down on his knees and beg if he thought he would say no, but Hanlon wasn't going to. Despite his initial freak out, and the old man's rather clairvoyant behavior, Hanlon nodded his head in agreement. He figured it was a win-win; he'd learn to play the drums and better yet, learn more about alluring Rachel Berry.
Rachel stood in the back of the store, looking over all the sheet music that Malachi had categorized. She needed to become familiar with the music his store offered if she would be working there until closing. The neighborhood was nice, Gramercy Park, with a nice eclectic mix of people, shops and eateries. The music store, Zammars, was a quaint store nestled between a bookstore and a tea and coffee house. She hadn't been too sure of answering the help wanted poster that was on one of the public boards in the lobby of her dorm, but the gold stars that decorated the ad had drawn her eye, and upon reading it, felt it was the perfect job for her. For some reason, no matter how much she loved NYADA and all the experience she was getting, she just felt like she needed more, like there was part of her that was missing despite all the wonderful experiences she was having. When she had shown up at Zammars, she felt at home immediately, like she belonged. The store was warm and inviting, with worn wooden floors and painted plaster walls. The cabinets and display cases were inviting, begging for customers to touch and play the instruments that twinkled in the warm lighting. In some ways, it reminded Rachel of being on a Broadway stage, the place she wanted to finally call home.
Her interview with Malachi was short, funny, informative and introspective. He reminded her of her Poppy, with his deep laugh lines around his eyes and the glasses he perched on his nose, but still looked over the top of; even the sweater vest and tweed trousers with scuffed brown oxfords were familiar to her. He had told her that she would work three to four evenings a week, starting when her last class ended to closing, which was at nine, so that he could have dinner with his 'ishshah. The store was closed every Friday in observance of the Sabbath and for all Jewish holidays. He looked right at Rachel when he said, "I may love my store and what I do for others, but my faith comes first, my family second and then my job. I don't like to give advice, but I strongly recommend you do the same Rachel, because if you get them out of order, then your life becomes a mess. Take it from someone who knows, and from the look on your face, I'd say you've had some questions about your life."
Rachel shook her head, "No. No question about it. I know I was created to star on Broadway. I know I'm meant to be that type of star, like Barbra Streisand. I just wonder sometimes why things happen, things that make you re-evaluate your future. Do you ever wonder why things happen? Things that might make you question things?" Rachel stared at Malachi a questioning look in her eyes, wondering if he would answer such a personal question.
She watched carefully as he pulled up a stool for her to sit down on next to the counter as he took his customary seat behind the counter. She watched him pull up his left sleeve above his elbow to show her a very tiny Star of David just under the crook of his arm. "I was a toddler when World War II broke out in Poland. I had two strikes against me; I was Jewish and living in a land that was easily taken over by the Nazis due to no natural defenses. I was just a babe when my mother and I were rounded up by the Nazis while my father was off fighting for Poland. We were initially supposed to be taken to a death camp, but for some reason, the man separating us Poles took us out of the line that led to the train on its way to the death camp and put us in the line for the bus going to a work camp instead. Work camp wasn't much better than the death camp, but it meant we were not going to purposefully die." As Malachi talked, his eyes were trained on the bell above the door, his voice monotonous and trance like a man that was thinking more than talking, "Anyway, my mother was put to work in a factory loading bullets into machine gun belts. It was hard work. Workers were given enough food for sustenance, and because I was just a baby, workers would give my mother some of their food to feed me so that I could stay healthy. I was given lots of butter to eat because we weren't given milk and the ladies wanted to make sure I had some dairy. Too this day, I can't use butter on anything, it makes me gag. Anyway, I learned to sit quietly behind my mother while she worked or else the guards would punish both my mother and me. It was supposed to be quiet, no talking was allowed among the "workers" but there was one lady that always sang. I think it was her way to get around the rule and her voice was so enchanting that even the guards and plant manager didn't care if she sang. She would sing Polish folk songs, popular songs of the time and even Jewish and Catholic hymns. Even in the filth and drudgery of that factory, her voice was pure and clean, what I imagined heaven sounded like. Anyway, my mother said that after a week or so of listening to her sing, I started to grab scraps of metal and wood and beat them on different surfaces to the rhythm of her song. She said it took me a while, but I eventually went from just randomly hitting to actually picking up her beat. My mother said I would even start beating out the rhythm of the song I wanted this angel of music to sing. This woman and I kept the workers entertained throughout the days and nights of work. She said the singer and I lifted to workers' spirits, gave them a bit of joy in a dismal day. My mother worked there until the Allies came and took over the plant, essentially setting my mother and me free. We were brought here to the US as refugees by a Catholic group. While we lived in a closet sized apartment here in New York, I drove my mother crazy with my banging and singing, just like I was still at the munitions plant. A music teacher that walked by our apartment everyday heard me, and one day walked up the three stories to find out who kept banging on everything. That teacher, Mr. James Kutner, took me under his wing and taught me music theory and how to play every instrument imaginable, as well as falling in love with my mother. He became my step-father."
"But what about your father, the one that fought for Poland?"
"He died on a field in southern Poland. He was buried on that site, and since my mother and I were wards of the Nazis and my father a traitor of the Third Reich, we weren't informed of his death until after we were here in New York. Mr. Kutner was very patient, and waited for my mother for five years until she found out what happened to my father and worked through her pain of losing him. Anyway Rachel, you asked me if I believed things happened for a reason, things that affected us, and I do. If that man, that German, hadn't pulled my mother and me out of the line for the train, if that unknown woman didn't sing every day to get around the rules, if I hadn't played with the metal and wood, if I didn't continue banging away and have Mr. Kutner hear me, then I would never have ended up owning this store and meeting you. Even though as a toddler I didn't know banging away would lead me to owning a highly reputable music store and meeting you, God, he knew. He couldn't control the way it happened, but he knew the end result, and he may have given little pushes here and there to make things happen, but still, he knew. So yes Rachel, I do believe that things happen for a reason."
Rachel was speechless as her mind wrapped around the profound story that Malachi had just told her, but one thing still was unclear, "Why do you have the tattoo though?"
"Well, as I'm sure you've studied in history, the Nazis liked to brand those they took, treating us like sick cattle. Anyway, since my mother and I were initially to go to a death camp, she was tattooed and numbered for identification, and she had told the man that was doing it, that if she was being marked, she wanted me to have the identical one, so that when we were killed, we could still be buried together as mother and son, so as a toddler I was given a small death camp tattoo."
Rachel covered her mouth in horror as she involuntarily wretched over what had happened to Malachi. His early life made her stomach turn in knots, but she understood what he meant. All that horror he had to endure led him to the beauty of music, and if he hadn't experienced it, then music may never have been a part of his life. Understanding a bit more, Rachel started her story, the one that was affecting her, specifically the boy that was affecting her, "There was this guy in high school my junior year. He was my best friend's step-brother, or soon to be step-brother. Anyway, literally a few hours before the biggest game of his life, where there would be scouts to watch him play, he was killed. It devastated his family and the entire school, but I was really devastated by his death, yet I barely knew him. I think it was the fact that he hadn't reached his zenith, he hadn't peaked yet and it was all taken away from him, if that makes any sense. It just had this effect on me that I can't describe. When he died, it felt like I died a bit too. But I really shouldn't be bothering you with something so trivial about my life. You're my employer now, and what I just did wasn't very professional and I am always professional."
Rachel felt Malachi's rough hands hold both of hers and squeezed them gently, signaling her to look into his eyes, "Rachel, don't consider me your employer. Please consider me family or at least your New York family for now. If something is bothering you or you need to talk, or have a hankering for some good latkes with applesauce, please come to me. Remember how I said faith comes first for me, well God has a way of pushing people together, and maybe he pushed you towards me to help you out, maybe even find your way."
"I've always known my way. This is where I'm supposed to be, New York and Broadway." Rachel said with a conviction that she didn't necessarily believe anymore.
"Maybe at one time you knew this is where you were supposed to be, but now, now I can tell something has changed within you. Or maybe someone has changed you. Anyway, why don't you go look my sheet music, and choose a book of songs. Consider it a hiring on bonus; just show it to me before you leave."
"Thanks. I've wanted the song book for Mamma Mia! I'll just peruse your selection and maybe see what you may be lacking and make a few suggestions, since my specialty is Broadway." Rachel smiled sweetly at her new boss before she walked to the back wall, dragging the stool with her since she couldn't reach all the way to the top shelf. She started by searching for Mamma Mia! and noticed that Malachi didn't have any particular order to his songbooks and sheet music, so she was going to start correcting that immediately. As she pulled the Broadway songbooks off to move them to one area of the wall, she heard the chime above the door ring. She just glanced over her shoulder to see the door open but not who entered. She heard heavy footsteps followed by a metallic tap, making her forehead wrinkle in wonder as to who had entered the store. Then she heard the voice from earlier that afternoon, a soft, deep brogue.
Her heart skipped a beat when she listened to the rumble of the comforting brogue again, so soon after her harrowing afternoon. She didn't want to seem too nosy, but she leaned back slightly and grabbed a random songbook and absently flipped through it while she listened intently to Malachi and Lt. Hanlon talk. She frowned when she heard Malachi offer Hanlon a job to work alongside Rachel as security for her since he was concerned about her security at night. While the idea of working closely with the copper haired fireman sent a delicious tingle through her body, she frowned at the thought that Malachi didn't think she could take care of herself.
As she continued to eavesdrop onto their conversation, she would steal glances over her shoulder at the fireman she had only just seen that afternoon, her rescuer that had held onto her on top of a rickety scenery pole. Right now she couldn't decide which she thought he looked better in, his fireman's uniform or his regular clothes, but the lighting in the store made Lt. Hanlon look rugged and handsome no matter what he had on. His copper hair glinted in the warm lighting, his green and gold eyes glowed. For the first time, as he talked to Malachi, she noticed the right side of his mouth lift up into a smirky smile, showing off dimples in his cheeks. She wasn't sure if it was a hero worship complex or something, but if anyone had asked her, she would swear he was the most adorable, gorgeous man she'd ever seen.
She realized that she was no longer sneakily looking at him, but was downright ogling him, and thanked heavens that he seemed more engrossed with what Malachi was saying and paying no mind to her. She felt a warm blush on her cheeks as she continued looking over the sheet music and songbooks, purposefully tuning out the conversation going on behind her, even though she really wanted to know what the two men were talking about, it was none of her business, so she kept repeating that over and over in her mind.
Rachel refocused on the music in front of her until she heard Malachi call her, "Rachel, I have some wonderful news, bubbala (Hebrew for darling). Lt. Hanlon will help you with locking up on the evenings you work. Instead of having to pay him, I just need to give him lessons on the drums. I'm such a smart man. Now why don't you get your coat so that you and Lt. Hanlon can go to the deli down the street and get to know each other since you'll be working together. Now go, shoo bubbala." Rachel almost fell off of her stool in shock, but shook her head and walked to the back where the practice rooms and her coat was stashed, like a good little girl listening to her grandfather. She was already reacting like Malachi really was her Poppy, and not her boss. Why was Lt. Hanlon going to be working alongside her at the store? Was he looking for a job? Rachel got the impression that Malachi marched to the beat of his own drum and worked at the speed of light when an idea struck him. She would have to learn to catch up to the wise old man if she was going to be of any use to him
As she walked back to the front, she saw the two men shaking hands and Malachi slipping some money into Lt. Hanlon's palm, "Go to the deli a couple of blocks down, Defonte's Sandwich Shop, tell 'em I sent you. They'll give you a good deal." She watched as her new boss turned towards her, causing Lt. Hanlon to do the same. She saw a twinkle in Malachi's blue eyes and something she couldn't recognize in the deep green of her rescuer. "Now you two scoot. I'm going to lock up and I want you two to get to know each other since you'll be working together. Here is my card with my number, Hanlon, please call me tomorrow with your schedule so that I can set mine and Rachel's up and schedule your lessons too."
Rachel walked towards her new workmate and smiled at him as he took her arm in his in a very gentlemanly manner as she bid Malachi a good night. When his hand lightly touched her forearm, she felt a cool feeling rush over her, one that was very comforting and familiar. The coolness that engulfed her put her in such a sublime state that she didn't even realize that she was out of Zammars and almost to the deli until she heard an attention getting cough. She shook her head of the warm fuzziness and looked up into her escort's face.
The light and shadows of the sidewalk made him look younger, his hair darker, and his eyes lighter, almost a glowing amber. He literally became someone else in front of her eyes for just a split second. He didn't look like an Irish Chicagoan but like someone she had once met. "We're here Miss Berry." She nodded her head as he placed his hand on the small of her back and led her through the door. A man that could be accused of being Malachi's twin stood behind the counter and quickly took her order of latkes with cinnamon and applesauce as well as a hot tea with honey. She listened as her dinner partner for the evening ordered a corned beef on rye with a Coke and then mentioned Malachi's name and she watched the numbers go down rapidly on the old fashion brass cash register. Smiling in amusement, she grabbed her tea while Lt. Hanlon paid and found a table next to the wall where she felt they could talk with some privacy.
She watched him walk, taking in his gait and how he corrected a slight sway in his gait with the dark stained cane with silver tip and ball. Why was an on-duty fireman using a cane? That question left as he sat down across from her with his half smile firmly in place forcing her to smile in return, but then who wouldn't smile when a good looking man sat across from you?
His smile and chivalrous behavior towards her made Rachel feel suddenly nervous, a very foreign feeling for the future starlet. She wasn't used to feeling like her stomach was in knots with butterflies flying through them. Tucking her hair behind her ears with a slightly shaky hand and wishing she had kept her headbands, she took a deep, calming sip of her tea and started in on her many questions for the man sitting across from her, "So Lt. do you have a first name or do you just go by your last name all the time?"
She watched him as he tapped his lips with his finger as he thought for a second before replying, "For work, just my last name or Lt. Hanlon. It's silly, but I know how people know me by what they call me. If you've worked with me at any time, you'll call me Hanlon. If I went to school with you I'd be Hans or Hands to you. If you're my family or close friends it's something else."
"And what is that something else that your family and close friends call you?" Rachel was shocked at how flirty she sounded as she asked him that question. Her voice had actually deepened slightly as she talked. Where the hell did that come from? She was equally shocked when he responded with a slightly huskier accent, "You'll have to become one to find out." Rachel couldn't help but stare into his eyes as he said that and swore that they had changed to a whiskey color for just a second, again. She scrunched her face up in concentration as she stared even harder at him, wondering what was going on with her mind.
She didn't even realize he was mirroring her look until the buxomly waitress came over with their orders and sighed rather loudly to draw their attention to her, or more like Hanlon's attention to her. Rachel immediately looked at her, not before seeing Lt. Hanlon mirroring her scrunched nose and brow except with a smirk instead of pursed lips. Another loud sigh from the waitress brought her dinner partner out of his look and put his eyes on the waitress who immediately replaced her frown with an attempt at a come hither smile and batted her false eyelashes and fake blue eyes at Hanlon. Rachel immediately looked down when she saw how the waitress passed the food out, somehow pushing her already ample bosom out towards Hanlon and skimmed her hands over her curves.
Rachel felt immediately flat and boyish compared to the raven haired waitress. She was small breasted and couldn't wear deep V-neck shirts because they made her look emaciated. The bright blue eyes fake or not, were much more attractive than her brown ones. Rachel was small, barely coming up to Hanlon's shoulders whereas the waitress was closer to his own height. The only thing that Rachel was sure of was that she had better hair than the waitress, because the shade of velvet black hair sported by their server was not created by nature.
Rachel has always self-confident, but around Hanlon and this flirtatious waitress and any self-confidence she had went out the window street. She didn't even look up when she saw the plate of potato latkes appear in front of her, in fact she just picked up her knife and fork and started cutting her food up, not wanting to see the flirting that was going on in front of her.
She was so intent on her food; it took a large hand laid on top of hers to bring her eyes up to the level of the deep green and amber eyes she had instantly liked. "What's wrong Rachel? Why are looking at your food? Am I really that bad of company?"
Rachel's eyes grew wide, how could he think he was bad company? "No no no. You're excellent. I mean excellent company. It's just our waitress was obviously checking you out and where she is more womanly, I'm more boyish. Where she's confident and flirtatious, I can be rather shy and reserved."
"Huh? Sorry, my ma has told me I'm a bit thick in the head, but what in the hell are you talking about?"
"Language Lt. Hanlon! Gentlemen don't curse in front of ladies, and I am a lady. And by your behavior I believe your mother raised a gentleman. Anyway, our waitress was blatantly flirting with you when she came with our food, and I just can never compare with women like that. Not in high school, not now." Rachel looked straight in his eyes as she said this. She truly believed that, even though her goal was to be on Broadway. She just couldn't compare, but luckily for her Broadway was more impressed with true talent than look.
An incredulous look appeared on his face, "Did you just hear yourself? Like really hear yourself?" She saw a look of shock on his face and a touch of anger or was it concern? "You have the talent to get into NYADA, which, from what I hear is harder than hell to get into. You are absolutely beautiful. I mean it. You're unique, and I saw that even up on that pole. It just rather seems to seep out of you and makes you glow. It's intoxicating." She watched as the hardened fireman across from her duck his head in embarrassment, a small blush possible creeping up onto his cheeks and her having trouble believing his words.
Without thinking, she placed her hand on top of his, and heard a hiss come from him, but instead of pulling his hand away, he turned it so their palms were touching. "Your hand is really warm. A lot warmer than mine. It's nice. I'm so used to being cool; to feel something warm is pleasant."
"I noticed that you seem cooler than the normal person. Why is that?" she asked, thankful for the change is subject.
"No one knows, just since my accident, my core body temperature has dropped, but it hasn't affected my organs or anything like that. My body has just become cooler. I seem to be the poster boy for medical abnormalities right now." She watched him shrug off his last comment as he took a hearty bite of his sandwich. She was curious about the abnormalities, but could see he didn't want to continue with his story, so she continued on her latkes as the two ate in silence for the remainder of their meal, but when they finished Rachel couldn't hold back the question that had been bugging her since she had first met Lt. Hanlon that afternoon.
"Your use of the cane, is that because of this accident you mentioned?"
She watched him sit back and rub the back of his neck as his face showed he was deep in thought, like he was debating if he should answer her or not. Finally he let out a rough sigh, "Aye. I got into a rather bad accident when I was moving here from Chicago. I had come out a few weeks before my things, living out of the fire station until my stuff from Chicago came. Anyway, I was driving from the station to my home, because the movers were there waiting on me. I was at an intersection and had the green light, so as I moved into the intersection a semi ran the red light and clipped my car on the driver's side and sent me spinning into a traffic pole. Even though I was belted, because of the force that he hit me with, it sent me into the pole; it snapped my seatbelt and sent me into the windshield, that's why I have this scar now." She saw him point to the pink jagged scar on the side of his face. She honestly hadn't noticed it until now. Nodding in encouragement to Hanlon, she adjusted herself in her seat and took a sip of her tea and just looked on in silence while he struggled with telling his story. "I don't remember anything after that. Not for three months. My concussion had put me into a coma, the swelling of my brain being pretty severe. I also had bleeds that they were dealing with too, from what I was told. That was May when the accident happened and I didn't wake up until August. I've been in therapy because the accident messed with my equilibrium and coordination. They literally had to re-teach me how to do everything, but for some reason I picked everything back up immediately, but as I tried to walk, run, or just stand, I would sway or start to fall over. That's when they found out about the equilibrium issue, so I need a cane to support and correct me. I can't go back on full duty until I get it back. Today was my first day to even be back on the streets. I got cleared to do lead truck duty since that is more a mind job then a physical one, except for me going up on the pole to be with you." Rachel noticed that he mumbled the last part, looking down at his empty plate. It suddenly clicked with her, the yelling between him and the blonde haired man and everything else.
"Did you get in a lot of trouble for helping me like you did?" She watched him look up and nod a small smile on his lips. Before she could even say that she was sorry, he spoke, "And if it happened again, I'd do the same thing. You wouldn't have lasted up there by yourself. You needed someone to lean on and to get strength from, and that was me. Don't worry about what happened to me. I'm fine with it because I know what I did was right." His small smile became a warm half smile that sent a wave of happiness through her and she returned his smile.
He looked at his watch and then at her, "Well Miss Rachel Berry, I need to get you back to your dorm. It's almost 10 and I'm sure you have classes in the morning." He stood up with the cane in one hand, his other offered to her in assistance to stand up. She took it shyly, but loved the sensation she got when they touched. She had literally just met him, but his touch was very addicting.
"Thank you, but I'm just going to grab a cab and go back to the dorm. You live in this neighborhood, and it would be rather silly for you to take me back to my dorm. I promise I'll be safe. I have my whistle and pepper spray, plus the cabs let us off at the door, so no walking." As she talked, she hadn't realized he had led her outside and hailed a cab for her. As he opened the door and offered his hand again in assistance, Rachel couldn't hold back anymore, so she shyly stood on her tiptoes and pressed a chaste kiss on his cool cheek. As she did an image of her and a boy at the park during the fall, the boy looked similar to Hanlon, was leaning down and kissing her cheek instead. As soon has her lips pulled away from Hanlon's cheek, the image left too, and she was half tempted to kiss him again to see if the image came back, but didn't. Instead she smiled at Lt. Hanlon as he closed the door of the taxi and gave him a small wave as it pulled away from the curb, leaving the fireman in the dim light of the sidewalk.
A/N: Sorry for the long wait on the update. This was a hard chapter to write and lots of things have been going on which take precedent over my hobby.
* Zammar (Hebrew for musician or singer)
** 'ishshah (Hebrew for wife)
*** bubbala (Hebrew for darling).