Departure Blues
Clay could feel his son's piercing stare from the safety of the porch when he slammed the Jeep's trunk on their bags a little while later. The light snowfall had been persistent for hours, but even that couldn't get a rise of excitement from the eight-year-old right now. "I don't wanna go yet," he heard Logan mumble barely audibly to Marie, who was standing with her arms protectively around him as she watched Clay prepare for departure.
"I know you don't, sweetheart," she said softly, stroking his hair as he peered up at her pitifully. "But it's what your Mom needs right now, okay? You're gonna have to be a brave boy and take good care of them for a while. Do you think you can do that for me?"
Logan nodded vigorously, but before he could say a word, Clay had tugged him from his grandmother's grasp into an even tighter hug. "Stop corrupting my kid, Mom," he joked weakly. "Wolverine, do you wanna go make sure you didn't forget anything?" Clay's gaze lingered on the staircase for a moment when his son dashed out of sight, but it wasn't long before he began to pace the hallway restlessly. "Where's Quinn?"
"She probably went to the bathroom or something," Marie pointed out. The next time he reached her, she grabbed his hand firmly. "Clay, would you just stop, please? You need to calm down, honey."
"And you need to stop looking at me like that," he retorted in a pained hiss she could barely make out.
"Like what, exactly?" she pressed, refusing to release his hand.
"Like…I'll break," he said carefully. "Because if you keep up the whole Mom mode thing, I really won't be able to let go…and might just really break. That is obviously not an option!"
"Mom mode, huh?" she echoed to hide how much the pain etched all over his face broke her heart. "Hate to break it to you, kid, but that's a default setting. You can't shut me out on-demand, try as you might."
"I know," he sighed and finally bent over her shoulders with a desperate hug. "I love you."
"I love you too," she replied. "Promise you'll keep in touch this time, alright? You know I worry about you, especially after something like this."
"Okay, I promise," he said solemnly and was still clinging to her hands when the sound of strangled wails reached them from the upper floor. "What the hell is going on up there?"
Seconds later, Logan bolted back down the stairs with wide eyes. "Dad, we have a problem, come quickly!" he urged. "Mom is totally losing it upstairs." Without waiting for further explanation, Clay pounded up the winding staircase and found Quinn kneeling in front of the bathroom door, her hunched figure trembling with suppressed sobs.
Clay's glance flickered uncomprehendingly from Sam, who was locking the bathroom firmly, to Lil, who was attempting unsuccessfully to console Quinn. "She saw the blood," Sam explained ruefully as the lock clicked after a brief struggle. "This," he said, tapping the wooden door for emphasis: "is where…it happened. I was going to lock it until we could get a cleaner in to fix it up, I'm sorry."
"It's okay," Clay choked with difficulty, staring at the offending bathroom door as he crouched beside Quinn and pulled her into his arms. His fingers roamed soothingly up and down her back as he said the words over and over like a chant. "It's okay…you'll be okay now." With Logan hovering sadly behind them and Sara's parents watching Quinn gasping in agony with concerned eyes, Clay couldn't help but feel this was the furthest he had been from okay in seven years.
It seemed to take an eternity for Quinn to calm down, but as Lil Kay watched Clay guiding his devastated wife back downstairs, she suddenly became aware of an impatient little hand tugging on her sleeve. "Grandma?"
"Sorry, honey, did you want something?" she asked Logan, noting with concern how worried he looked as he stared after his parents.
"Follow me," the eight-year-old urged, tugging her in the direction of his bedroom. "I…uh, I have a question," he confessed at last when he had dragged her right up to the window where the customized Christmas angel still dangled.
"Okay," Lil prompted in confusion, glancing sadly at the Jeep parked outside and ready to go. "What is it, squirt?"
Logan scraped absently at the sticky tape securing the angel to the window for a moment. "Can I keep her?" he asked finally, aiming a pleading gaze at her. "I know it's kind of silly, …but this Christmas really sucks, and I like having Mommy close. Is that okay?"
"Of course you can," she said quickly. "That's not silly, understand? Not even a little bit." She helped him peel the rest of the tape off the glass and pressed the Christmas angel into his small hands. "Don't forget; she can always hear you."
"I know," the little boy nodded, but his hazel eyes sparkled with deep sadness as he hugged the angel tightly to his chest. "That's why I need her right now. Nana said I have to take care of Mom and Dad…but I really don't know how to make this better. I mean, Mom doesn't like me anymore, and it's just –,"
"That's enough," Lil interrupted her grandson's distraught babbling firmly and wrapped her arms tightly around his shaking figure. "Listen to me, this whole thing is absolutely horrible, but that doesn't make your parents any less responsible for you. You are an amazing kid, and just having you around will help them, I promise. What your Nana meant was…,"
"That she's worried too, that's all," a raspy voice cut across Lil's reassuring speech, and she reluctantly released Logan to turn around. Clay was leaning in the doorway of Logan's bedroom, observing the two of them through suspiciously red-rimmed eyes. "Sorry to interrupt, but we should really hit the road. Do you have everything, Wolverine?"
"I do now," Logan said softly, returning his grandmother's encouraging smile as he held the angel up for Clay to see. "Mommy's coming home with us…kind of."
"That's great," said Clay brightly, the most pained smile Lil had ever seen plastered across his face as he stared at the photograph of Sara and her sister stitched to the angel's chest space. He beckoned Logan over to him and pressed a kiss to his son's forehead. "You know you don't have to take what Nana said literally, right? She's just worried because she's my Mom, okay? It's always going to be my job to take care of you, not the other way around."
"I don't mind the other way around sometimes," Logan told him honestly. "I just wish I could make Mom smile, you know?"
"Yeah," Clay sighed, hugging the little boy close to him. "She'll get there eventually squirt; it's just going to take a while. You can just make me smile in the meantime."
"I can?" Logan asked skeptically, peering up at him in apparent disbelief. "You honestly mean that?"
"Dude, are you calling me a liar?" Clay shot back in mock-defense. "You can, you do, and you always have, oh sunshine of mine."
"No touching the hair," Logan grinned, ducking out of his father's reach just in time to avoid it. Backing away from Clay, the eight-year-old collided suddenly with Lil and grimaced apologetically at her. "Oops, sorry Grandma," he said quickly, but then frowned in confusion at her misty brown eyes, so like his. "Are you crying?"
"No," the old woman lied thickly, rubbing her eyes as she perched on the edge of his bed and tugged Logan onto her lap. "Sara used to call him her sunshine," she reminded Clay affectionately as he sat down beside her on top of the dark blue bedspread.
"Yeah, she did," he nodded reminiscently, but then fell silent and merely squeezed Logan's fingers as the little boy curled into his grandmother's embrace.
"How was the cemetery visit today?" Lil ventured hesitantly, and Clay flinched visibly at the subject.
"It looked pretty good for this time of year," he said evasively. "I mean lots of snow, obviously, but it was, um…"
"That wasn't the question, sweetie, and you know it," Lil interrupted the rambling with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder, and Clay let out a shuddering gasp.
"Sorry," he mumbled sheepishly, feeling his face flush as he turned to face her knowing gaze. "It's been seven years, and that's still the place I run to when…everything falls apart. Sara always knew exactly what to say to fix any insecurity or sadness. I guess I still miss that."
"Is it terribly selfish of me to be slightly glad you would miss that?" Lil mused out loud with an overwhelmingly sympathetic smile, and Clay shook his head slowly. Logan sat up straighter on Lil's lap and watched the exchange with interest as his grandmother continued. "Not to state the obvious, but Sara was my baby girl, you know," she pointed out. "Whatever magic advice she produced probably originated in this house; think about that for a minute." Logan giggled at her words, and she gave him an affectionate squeeze while Clay pondered that logic. "What kind of advice are you looking for?"
"I don't know," Clay shrugged helplessly. "How to get through this loss? How to make Quinn feel better? All sorts, I guess…" he trailed off vaguely. "The proof is in how badly I dealt with losing Sara. Obviously, she wasn't there to knock sense into me anymore," he said darkly.
Frowning at the despair in his every word, Lil gave Logan a little nudge. "Could you get up for a second, baby?" When the eight-year-old had scrambled obligingly to his feet, Lil stood up and offered Clay her hand. "You come with me," she demanded firmly and led the way across the landing to the master bedroom. Sam was standing in front of the mirror, hanging on one wall, running a comb through his hair. Logan lurched towards his grandfather while Lil dragged Clay over to the massive cupboard opposite and cracked open the left-hand door slightly. After rummaging through a messy pile of scarves for a moment, she finally extracted a medium-sized wooden box with a little latch holding it shut. "Here we go," she said softly, turning to Clay, who was hovering curiously behind her. "I found this when I was clearing out some old things the other day and thought it would make a good Christmas gift. Since you're not staying, I suppose there's no time like the present, is there?"
"You know I'd stay if I could," Clay sighed, taking the box carefully from her. "What is this anyway?"
"Open it," she said mysteriously. "Call it an early Christmas present if you like." Logan had wriggled across the expanse of the king-size bed in the middle of the room and was bouncing up and down in anticipation by the time Clay's shaking fingers flipped the fiddly latch on the box. When he finally lifted the engraved dark wood lid, it was to find two old photographs of him and Sara, scaled to fit side by side in a customized plastic frame. Three-dimensional letters made of wood formed very familiar words on three sides of the rectangular frame: integrity, character, and heart. "That's what I think Sara would tell you if she were here right now," Lil said gently, watching him trace the raised letters carefully with one finger. "You and Quinn will get through this with the love you have for each other guiding the way. That's who you are, honey, no loss can change that wonderful heart of yours. Believe that, and you'll be fine."
Clay handed the box and photo frame to Logan before drawing Lil into a bone-crushing hug. "Thank you," he whispered, surreptitiously wiping his eyes as she patted him fondly on the back. "I guess you were right about the origins of brilliant advice."
"I won't say I told you so," Lil told him, a knowing smile on her face as she moved towards the bed where Sam was sitting with Logan, both examining the photographs. "Gosh, we'll miss this little nugget so much."
"That is so cool," Logan beamed, squeezing his grandmother's hand affectionately even though the photographs had most of his attention. "What was going on there?"
"Your incredibly dorky parents practically had a food fight with the wedding cake, such a waste," Lil told him, smiling up at Clay's sheepish expression as he joined the trio in poring over the photo frame.
"That depends on your definition of waste," Clay smirked, gazing fondly at the left half of the frame. It showed Clay and Sara standing in front of their wedding buffet, each with a piece of the creamy wedding cake in their poised fists and both laughing hysterically. "It was a blast; you probably have my college roomie to thank for that shot."
"Mommy looks so pretty," Logan said in awe, staring at the loose blonde curls framing Sara's expression of pure joy as she aimed her cake at Clay.
"Gorgeous," Clay agreed softly. "But she was a terrible shot, in case you were wondering. That cake totally ended up on the floor."
"Waste," Lil sighed again, shaking her head at the defiance of youth. "At least your best man's photography reflexes were impressive; it's a sweet picture."
"I like the other one even better," Logan said, shifting his wondrous gaze to the photo on the right. "I'm kind of in it."
"Yes, you are," Clay said proudly. "That was the day we finished decorating your nursery. I did most of the painting before even letting your Mommy see it. But the way she approved of the name Logan for you was making your grandfather paint your name on the wall. It was one of the greatest surprises of my life."
"Grandpa did that?" Logan gasped, staring past the twenty-four-year-old version of his father delicately twirling Sara around in palpable excitement. On the sky-blue wall, just above the crib, was his name spelled out in large letters shaped like fluffy white clouds. "It's awesome!"
Clay smiled at his son's enthusiasm, but before he could say another word, the bedroom door creaked open. His mother was standing in the doorway, gripping Quinn's arm so firmly she may have been the only thing keeping his wife on her feet. Logan clung to one of Sam and Lil's aged hands each as he wriggled to his feet with a guilty grimace. Clay quickly shut the lid of the wooden box on the treasured photographs, to avoid meeting Marie's compassionate gaze.
Quinn stumbled unsteadily towards him, the dark shadows around her bright blue eyes becoming more prominent than ever, the closer she came to him. "Hey…l know it must be difficult for you to let go right now," she said hoarsely, nuzzling against his shoulder wearily. "I don't want to be the bitch that drags you away from your family right now; I swear I don't! But can we please go back to Tree Hill now?" By the end of her pleading speech, Quinn's voice was choked with tears once more. "I just really need to go home."
"She just said a swear," Logan whispered to Clay, placing one of his small hands against Quinn's back.
Sam and Lil had joined his mother near the bedroom door, forming an unbearable wall of parental sympathy with their worried gazes. Clay avoided looking at them as Quinn's grip on him grew tighter and more desperate. "I'm really sorry, Q," he breathed. "You're right; let's go home."
A/N This chapter was slow progress, but I do love the family fluff aspect, enjoy all! xx