Here, Now
A Mirror, Mirror & The Missing Fanfiction
Part Ⅳ
~2012~
Wellington, New Zealand
"Mum says she'll be home by seven; the Board's got some big conference happening at the library and they won't let her off," Jo told Gavin, drawing out the antenna on the cordless phone. "Dad's at an old mate's book club until nine, so I thought we'd order a pizza. Sound alright?"
Gavin was sitting at the desk Ms. Guthrie usually worked at in the lounge, doing a worksheet on the Māori language.
Initially, he'd grumbled about how – since he was going back to Ohio in six months – he was never going to use any Māori, so what'd he have to learn it for, but he'd warmed to the langauge after Ms. Guthrie told him Jo used to study it – along with Japanese – when she went to Hampton Shelly; then, of course, he'd met Tama, who actually was Māori, and that made it a bit more interesting, too.
He and Jo had been shaky with each other after their fight and awkward wordless reconciliation – after she said that about his parents, and he'd waded through literal crap to get The Ring back – but both sides were now trying to mend fences. A sort of sad softness had replaced their former tense manner, as the days went on, and they tended to speak quietly to one another, to half smile reassuringly when they remembered to but never otherwise.
He was still only a child, and she was still going to marry somebody else. He still fancied her. She was still leaving Wellington for Sydney when the next month was out. Nothing either of them could do changed those facts.
He put down his pencil and glanced up. "Yeah, pizza's fine."
"You want anything on it special, or should I just do pepperoni?"
Gavin opened his mouth to answer, to say pepperoni was good, but his eye was caught by something behind Jo – a picture frame (a photograph of her brother Royce as a baby) that appeared to be moving.
Brow furrowed, Jo turned her head and followed his gaze. As she looked back to him, the ground started shaking and things on shelves began to rattle.
"Look out!" She lunged forward and grabbed him, pulling him out of harm's way as a battered copy of Future Shock came hurtling down from its place and nearly struck the side of his head. Instead, it landed harmlessly on the carpet. Her tightening fingers squeezed his hand as she tugged with urgency. "Under the desk, quick!"
Gavin didn't ask what was happening. He'd never been in an earthquake before, but it didn't take a genius.
Under the desk, they huddled together. Jo put her arms around him and held him tight against her, bending over him slightly as if to shield him. Gavin would have been perfectly content in that position if only the floor beneath them wasn't in the process of shaking itself to bits, the effect of which – admittedly – turned out to no less scary even knowing what it was. Had he been a very little bit younger, he might have wet himself.
Things were falling all around them, crashing onto the floor with brutal force. Somewhere, he could hear glass breaking. The air around the desk was strangely dense, thickening with dust.
Gavin wasn't aware he was trembling – it was tough to guess where his own shaking started and the earthquake ended – but Jo must have been, because she kept murmuring it would be okay.
Being this close to her, he could actually feel her voice, like he was hearing through his skin. It reverberated, a sort of soft, delicate note, almost a twang like from a stringed instrument, resounding under the noise of the world falling apart all around them. Gavin was oddly reminded of watching Fantasia when he was little; the segment where abstract shapes were meant to represent the sounds of the classical music playing. Jo's reassurances had color and shape, somehow. He could see them even when he closed his eyes and burrowed his face into her collar. He hoped she didn't hear him whimper as he did so.
It was only about thirty seconds, though it felt like it had been ages. The room had stopped shaking itself to bits. Objects were settling, stilling, instead of bouncing around spontaneously like the popping balls in those toy vacuums toddlers play with.
Gavin started to let go of Jo, thinking to crawl out back into the room, but she tightened her grip on him.
"Leave it a minute," she choked out, and for an idiotic half-second, Gavin thought she just wanted to hold him longer – and was perfectly okay with that – until he heard, "Might be aftershocks."
"M'kay," he muttered, brilliantly.
As they stood in the overturned lounge, looking around at the moved furniture and random bits and bobs strewn across the floor and carpet – books and cracked jars and remote controls and stray batteries and pieces of circuitry and home office supplies – Jo nodded as if it was no worse than she expected.
Watching her gauge everything so calmly, Gavin – fear subsiding – thought, wow, she really is amazing. She doesn't even look scared. That's what I call a woman!
Of course, he realized later she probably had been through earthquakes before – they were more common in Wellington than in Ohio. Ms. Guthrie had told him once Wellington was built on a fault line, or something of the kind.
Still, he guessed Jo was awfully brave as well as being prettier, more fun, and nicer than other grownups.
He'd only stood there for a moment admiring her when he was suddenly doubled over, coughing. Probably inhaled too much of all that settling dust. He tried to stop, couldn't, waved a hand awkwardly when Jo asked if he were all right, trying to say, yeah, he was fine even though he couldn't talk.
Jo's hand patted him lightly on the back while he wheezed and tried to regain his breath.
A second later, he was fine, craned his neck to grin at her, then saw what he hadn't seen in her face before.
Now she was afraid. Now she was so scared her tan cheeks were turning waxy white and her eyes fairly glittered with fright.
"Wh–?" he began to ask what was wrong, then felt it for himself – blood dribbling down his upper lip from one of his nostrils.
"We want to keep him here overnight – just for observation, mind." The doctor closed the file he'd left open on the nightstand by Gavin's bed and began to walk out of the room.
Catherine and Andrew, Jo just behind them, followed at his heels.
"Doctor..." Andrew said in a low voice, reaching for his shoulder. "The poor kid's only eleven and he's in a foreign country more'n eight thousand miles away from his parents – not to mention he's just been through an earthquake. We know it's against policy, but couldn't someone stay here with him?"
The doctor's mouth flatlined wearily. "Not all three of you?" He pointed a ballpoint pen at them.
"Of course not," Catherine agreed. "My husband's just suggesting one of us should sit up with the boy."
"I'll stay with him," Jo volunteered. "If that's all right with the doctor. You both should go home and get some sleep." Then, groaning, "Oh no. Damn."
"What's the matter?" her mother asked, blinking with concern.
"You and Dad both had your cars with you, so I took Leonie's old rust bucket from next door – remember she left the keys with us and started taking the tram because she got paranoid the archaeology club was putting sawdust in the engine?"
"I guess it makes about as much sense as the time she thought the boys in the Chem lab were gonna bomb it," muttered Andrew, scratching the back of his neck and fighting a yawn that made his eyes water and his jaw pop.
"Anyway, I couldn't think how else to get Gavin here, and he had all that blood running down his face, so I just nicked the keys and a box of tissues, dragged him to the lot next-door, and told him to get in."
"It was an emergency." Andrew didn't quite see the problem.
"Yeah, but you know if it's not there, right where she left it, the minute Leonie turns up to mop the floors in the morning, she'll completely freak and have the coppers searching for it." Jo grimaced. "I gotta drive it back to school tonight."
"Your dad and I can drive Leonie's car," was Catherine's practical suggestion, reaching to swap keys. "You just bring mine – and Gavin – back home tomorrow."
Jo's face relaxed. "Good thinking, ninety-nine." She leaned forward and hugged both her parents fiercely. "Gosh! I'm so glad you guys are okay. I didn't want Gavin to know – I reckoned he had enough on his plate haemorrhaging out the nose – but that felt like a big one this time. I was really worried."
"As much as I hate to break up a group hug after a natural disaster," drawled the doctor, "visiting hours do in fact end in" – he angled his wrist to look at the face of his watch – "less than two minutes. So, that is to say, all out that's going out."
Catherine kissed Jo's cheek. "We'll see you at home tomorrow."
"Bye." She waved after them as they disappeared down the corridor and through a pair of automatic doors that let a freezer-blast of cold air in from the lobby.
Gavin was lolling back on the pillows, eyes halfway closed, when Jo walked back into his room. "Just you and me tonight, mate."
He opened his eyes. "Too bad they won't let us order pizza in here."
"What do we want pizza for when we've got off-brand jelly?" She motioned teasingly at a plastic cup of trembling lime-green dessert.
He smirked. "I like the way you say that."
"Say what?"
"Jeeehhhllllyyyy." This time, the impersonation was openly affectionate, and Jo felt warm and tingly rather than annoyed. "Everyone back in Ohio would just call it Jell-O. Jelly's what we eat with peanut butter."
"You Americans are so weird sometimes, know that?" Jo moved a chair from near the window to beside his bed, opposite the nightstand.
"You're gonna be in that chair all night?"
"Yep."
"Will it be comfortable?"
"Sure," she lied.
"You saved me tonight." Twice, once during the earthquake, then again when his nose bled...
"Well, hey." She tried to make her voice light. "Let's not forget I owed you. You did go for a swim in a septic tank for me."
Gavin sighed, gazing at her. How could anyone look so beautiful after they'd just been through an earthquake and then been at a hospital walking round under the relentless glare of florescent lights for hours and hours and not getting any real dinner?
"Whoa. Why are you staring at me like that? Have I got something on my face?" she asked, misunderstanding his stare – possibly on purpose.
"No," he croaked softly. No, you're perfect – you're perfect, and I love you.
"Oh. Well. Good." She reached behind her and picked up the plastic cup from the tray. "If you're not gonna eat this, d'you mind if I...?"
"Go ahead."
Waking at some ungodly hour in the morning, Gavin sat up and, stretching, looked around the badly lit hospital room.
It was deadly quiet. You couldn't even hear any nurses in the corridor outside. He didn't feel sleepy but guessed, if the nurses weren't on their rounds yet, it must be a while still until the doctor would come in and dispatch him, say he could go home to the Tiegans. They'd left a message with his parents last night, but he hadn't heard if they got it or not. He wondered if it had gone to voicemail. His mother didn't know how to set up her voicemail. She probably had hundreds of unheard messages on there. Maybe she – or his dad – would hear about the earthquake on the World News, if it was bad enough.
How bad did an earthquake here have to be to get reported on TV in Liston, Ohio?
It'd be on the internet – because everything was – but Mom thought internet news was unreliable. Then again, most people she knew only used the internet to post memes – usually ones that didn't make any sense – featuring the minions from Despicable Me.
He reminded himself to ask Jo about what earthquakes were news-worthy.
Jo.
She was asleep in that chair by his side. She didn't look comfortable, but she was snoring lightly, her chest going up and down, rising and falling completely out of rhythm with the faint whistling sound her nose was making.
An idea occurred to Gavin, then.
She was close enough that, if he bent forward, sort of leaned over the side of the bed, he could kiss her.
Gavin had never kissed anyone – except for maybe his parents when he was really small – before.
Since she was going to marry that jerk Michael, it didn't seem likely he'd ever have a chance to find out what kissing her would be like when he was grown up. So this might be the only chance he got if he wanted his first kiss to be her.
He felt kind of weird about it – she was sleeping, and they were in a hospital – but he didn't think she'd let him kiss her on the mouth if she were awake and they were someplace else.
Which probably just meant he shouldn't do it in the first place.
But when did he ever do only stuff he should? If he only did stuff he was supposed to, his parents wouldn't have sent him here.
Nobody would know, anyway.
Before his nerves ditched him and he wigged out of it like a wuss – and he felt he was in real danger of that – he made himself bend at the waist until he was close enough. Then, very quickly, he touched his lips to hers.
It was only for a second, barely a peck, but his pulse was racing and his face felt hot. Overall, though, he wasn't sure why grownups made such a big deal about kissing; it just felt a bit funny, really.
Jo gave a low moan and shifted in her seat; her mouth parted like she was going to say something.
Gavin felt his eyes bulge. Crap. She'd been awake after all! He scooted back guiltily in the squeaky hospital bed, inwardly debating whether to confess or to lie when she inevitably demanded to know what he thought he'd been doing.
Then she – mercifully still asleep, her voice groggy and dreamy – mumbled, "Nicholas."
This was surprising. So surprising, in fact, Gavin stopped being afraid of getting caught and just gawked.
Who the heck was Nicholas?
But he guessed it could have been worse – she could have said Michael's name.
Gavin was resolutely not crying in the middle of Wellington International Airport. He made a point of not crying in airports ever – because it looked stupid and babyish. Only toddlers small enough to still need pacifiers and blankets they called 'blankey' cried in airports. Never twelve-year-olds. Not in any airport, for any reason. He hadn't cried when his parents put him on a plane from Cleveland; he would have denied the lump in his throat altogether if anybody had bothered asking about it.
Of course, the fact he wasn't crying, wasn't being a baby about it, didn't mean Gavin was happy.
How could he possibly be happy about Jo going back to Australia while he still had four more months – four more months here without her – before going home?
He wished she'd stay, at least until he had to go, and even then – even imagining getting his way there – he didn't like thinking about when the four months would be over and they'd have to go their separate ways.
Sooner or later, they'd be separated no matter what.
But this was sooner.
When he couldn't sleep a wink the night before, dreading this, Gavin had imagined standing on the runway so Jo's plane couldn't take off. Or putting something in her carry-on bag they would stop her boarding for. A lighter or a knife, maybe? He had a Swiss Army knife he'd found – it was in his shoebox – but it was really rusty and didn't open so good. The only appendage he could actually get into a usable position was a spoon. He didn't think they'd ban Jo from flying for possession of a spoon. And, anyway, he wanted her with the Tiegans – with him – not arrested. So much for that idea.
He bit his bottom lip hard – not crying – while he stood with her parents watching her check in her suitcase and confirm her tickets before turning back to them.
"Well, if I miss this flight, there's gonna be hell to pay." She said it brightly, but Gavin scowled – he knew she meant Michael, who he'd been very determinedly trying not to remember she was going back to – and shifted stiffly from one foot to the other, leaning against the sides of his sneakers.
Michael thought she'd been gone long enough, that two months was too long for her to be away in the first place. He'd said so when she was FaceTiming him again last night. He said he didn't care if he'd agreed when she first told him about going to New Zealand to visit her parents.
Gavin had been in her room, playing the Nintendo she'd set up for him on her teenage self's ancient TV from 1993, so he'd heard nearly the whole conversation. It only reinforced his opinion that her fiancé was a jackass.
Jo's gaze shifted awkwardly away from Gavin's, and she gave her full attention – for a few brief moments – to her parents, hugging and kissing them goodbye and saying she'd be in touch. She'd call every night after nine to check in.
Giving Andrew's arm a squeeze, she informed her dad it would be just like she was still here.
No it won't, thought Gavin, grinding his teeth together and watching the airport floor inexplicably blur.
There was no putting it off any longer – Gavin was next. Jo bent to hug him. She was wearing boots with a slight heel instead of her usual sneakers, but that wasn't the only reason. Gavin was positive he was going to be tall when he grew up – somehow, he'd always known beyond shadow of a doubt he would be – but he hadn't hit the longed-for growth spurt yet. And, frankly, it was more than a little embarrassing to have his crush bend at the knees and squat slightly in order to say goodbye to him.
"If you need me," she said, pulling away, still crouched in front of him, "you have my number and my email. You can text me if you feel like you want somebody to talk to, okay?"
He nodded. He'd thought of just telling her he knew the truth, that she didn't have to pretend. That he knew she wouldn't have time to talk to him, if he did call or text her, because she'd be with Michael planning their dumb wedding, but his throat hurt too much. The nod and a quick blink to clear his vision again was about all he could manage.
"Be good," she rasped, and rested her forehead against his a moment.
He tried to say, "Sure," or "I will," but those words were sticky, too. They wouldn't come out. They felt thick and gelatinous, like cough medicine that doesn't go all the way down even when you keep gulping and gulping to try and force it.
Finally, as she was standing up and brushing off the front of her jumper, he got out, in a horrible reedy squeak, "G'bye, Jo."
"Bye, Gavin – I'm gonna miss you, mate." She swung her carry-on over her shoulder and walked away.
Gavin stared after her, utterly confused. Because for some reason – even though he wasn't crying – his cheek was wet. It took several seconds for him to work out they'd been her tears – Jo's – that they'd fallen onto his face when she hugged him goodbye.
He hadn't been crying, he'd managed not to, but she'd cried.
~2012~
Sydney, Australia
The sight of a familiar back made Jo smile. She hadn't smiled since she left Gavin, though she'd tried to. Tried to force herself – in no small part because she didn't want to arrive visibly miserable and have Michael think she wasn't glad to be with him again. She'd even watched a funny movie on the flight over, hoping to make herself laugh, but all of the jokes fell flat, and her facial muscles had utterly refused to twitch up in even the slightest beginnings of a real grin.
She'd thought maybe – if Michael noticed – she could just blame her dejection on the time change, say she was tired and puffy-eyed and unsmiling because Wellington was two hours ahead. It shouldn't be impossible to convince him she would be herself again after a good night's sleep.
But she guessed now she needn't have bothered worrying. The sight of Michael's back as he stood at Mascot Airport waiting for her arrival did make her lips turn upwards and her heart beat faster.
So she'd meant what she told Gavin, then. Part of her had been so afraid she hadn't. Part of her had been replaying his question, why do you love him? over and over again, her heart desperately searching for an answer it couldn't find.
Even now, safely reassured she did love him, she still didn't have an answer as to why. It just didn't seem to matter as much. Who knew why anybody stayed together or liked each other.
That they did should be enough.
The night she'd stayed with Gavin in the hospital had only furthered her doubt – the doubt which made the flight over here so utterly miserable. She'd had an unnervingly vivid dream Nicholas – sixteen, like he'd been in 1919 – came into the room while she was resting her eyes in the chair by Gavin's bedside. In her dream, he'd kissed her. A quick, innocent kiss, but a kiss that nevertheless made her think – traitorously – she'd never felt what she felt then when Michael kissed her.
For the rest of the week, she'd been petrified she wasn't in love.
There were so many things she couldn't even tell Michael about. She would never tell him about the mirror, or Louisa or Nicholas, never share such an important part of her life with him, but that was only the start of secrets between them. It was her history, seventeen years in the past. Just for her and Tama, because he'd been there, too. It must be okay to have secrets so far back. After all, Michael never told her about his first love, or much of anything about his teen years apart from pitiful anecdotes about his brother making him feel inferior (even way back then), either.
But she should have been able to tell him about flushing his ring in anger, without worrying he'd hate her forever, shouldn't she?
She shouldn't have wanted, at the last second, to throw off her carry-on bag and run back to Gavin in the airport, sobbing. How could she ever explain such an insane feeling to anybody – let alone Michael? What would she say? It's not that I don't love you – I hope – it's just I've been having an emotional affair with a twelve-year-old for the last two months. I tried not to, though, so it's all water under the bridge, right? You're okay with it, right?
Thankfully, seeing him there made everything better, clearer.
She loved him, so it didn't matter.
"Mi–" she began, running to him, letting her bag fall from her shoulder so it flopped and dragged down near her elbow.
Then he turned and she felt the wind drop right out of her sails.
It wasn't Michael.
"Oh." She wilted. "It's you. Sorry, mate. Yikes. You look just like your brother from behind." The last firecracker of hope went off inside her, letting her affect another burst of brightness. "Where is he?"
"He couldn't make it," Michael's brother explained. "Asked me if I'd mind dropping you off home for him so you didn't have to pay for a taxi."
Oh, how fucking thoughtful of him. "He seriously said that?" Jo wrinkled her nose. "After weeks of picking on me about going to New Zealand in the first place?" The least he could have done was show up himself.
"Yeah."
"Oh, God." Jo had just noticed the sign – the bloody sign – her future brother-in-law was holding.
"What?"
"Look, it's not that I don't appreciate the effort you've made, Billy, but my name isn't Joanna Tiggins." She'd been with his brother long enough for him to know Jo was short for Josephine, at the very least, even if he couldn't spell her last name.
"Close?" His sparkling, even grin was sheepish.
"Not really."
"Right. But closer than last time, eh?"
She snorted, vaguely recollecting him introducing her to some friends as my brother's smoking hot fiancée, Jenny Tonks what felt like forever ago after one too many beers – an announcement followed by him slapping her on the ass and making her feel uncomfortable in his presence for the rest of the evening...
Her initials stuck somewhere in his subconscious, at least – maybe that counted for something.
"I would hardly call it an active improvement." She groaned, fidgeting with her engagement ring, only for it to suddenly pop off over her knuckle and sail – airborne for just a moment – onto the well-tread airport floor with an almost inaudible plink. "Oh, shit! Michael's gonna chuck a mental if I lose it again!" Dropping to her knees, she started feeling around, muttering, "Shit...bloody shit...shit, shit, shit..."
Michael's brother sank to the floor to help. "Damn, chickie. That flew!"
Jo wished he had the common sense not to feel around exactly where she was already crawling and patting and groping, but she could hardly criticise him when – unlike Michael, who should have been here to meet her – he'd come to pick her up and it was, after all, his money which originally paid for the amazing flying engagement ring.
"Oy! I found somethin'!" He raised his hand triumphantly, then squinted at the object caught between his fingers. "Oh, never mind, it's just a button." And he made as if to toss it.
Jo's eyes widened as she realised the shimmering dark blue button in question had fallen from her pocket. "No!" She lunged for it before he could make the fatal toss, frantically prying his beefy, calloused fingers apart. "No! Don't you dare. It's mine. It's from–" Her breathing was heavy, panicked, chest heaving. "From a friend."
"Whoa, whoa, chickie – relax."
She caressed the button with her thumb before putting it back in her pocket, safe and sound. "Sorry," but she wasn't. "Dunno what came over me." She did. She just couldn't bear to admit it.
They found the ring, a few minutes later, but Jo's stomach lurched as it struck her she felt less relieved at finding Michael's ring – the ring that had caused so much trouble – than she did at saving Gavin's button.
"What's wrong with me?" she muttered, slipping the ring back on and gritting her teeth.
Twenty minutes or so after recovering the ring and picking up her luggage and trying, in weak jokey spurts, to convince the brother of the man she was going to marry she hadn't gone off her head during her stay in New Zealand, Jo was sitting in his car, phone to hear ear, talking to Michael.
There were heaps of things she wanted to scream at him. About him not showing up to see her after pitching a fit because she was gone so long. About his brother still not knowing her name.
But she wasn't screaming at all.
In a calm, sad little voice, trying to pretend his brother wasn't there in the driver's seat listening to every word she said, Jo asked, "You do love me, right?"
He assured her of course he did – didn't she know?
"Why?" she whispered.
The question seemed to confuse him. "What?"
"Why do you love me?"
He did, he huffed, wasn't that enough?
Without another word, she dropped the phone into her lap and started crying – ugly crying, shoulders heaving, with snot and tears streaming down her face.
