The silence grew between them, taking on the roar of the ocean until the pounding of the blood in Syrena's ears became the surf beating relentlessly against the rocks. She tried to keep her eyes focussed on their destination, a point of rock in the distance, but found herself stealing long glances at Hando's profile as he walked beside her. The set of his jaw, the curve of his neck, the way his nostrils flared slightly as he pushed the breath out of his lungs, she fought to look away, but her eyes were inexplicably drawn to observe the aura of male sexuality that he exuded.
A wave broke close to shore and rushed up to meet the feet that were scuffing the smooth sand. Syrena yelped and bumped Hando when she felt the water rise over her boots to soak her almost to the knees. The two of them hurried up the beach, out of reach of the errant wave, and stood laughing as the wave retreated as quickly as it had come. "Well, that was great," Syrena said, more to herself than to Hando, and continued laughing. "Hell, at least my feet aren't wet." Her jeans were soaked, the cold denim clung to her calves, and her wool socks were damp down to her ankles. She turned to look at Hando, standing beside her with a broad grin on his face, "How 'bout you? Did it get you, too?"
"Not too bad, Sy."
"Well, then, let's keep going. I'm getting hungry," her words came out strongly, commanding, and she started heading south again.
Hando fell into step behind her, content to watch the sway of the jacket tied around her waist as she took long steps in the sand toward their destination. She doesn't walk like most birds, he observed silently, watching her hips swing slightly back and forth. Confident, like my mates. Wonder how she got to be that way, like she's got a wall up between her and the world, like nobody can get to her. His thoughts were interrupted abruptly when she slowed to a stop and he had to sidestep quickly to avoid running into her back.
"Here we are," she announced, spreading her arms to show him the little cove they'd entered. The beach had curved around so the parking lot was out of sight, and a tall basalt monolith rose from the waves, crossing the surf at an angle to pierce the beach. The top of the rock looked almost flat, standing silhouetted against the blue sky, and Hando gazed up at it thinking, That would be a great place to sit. Syrena's hand on his shoulder broke his reverie, and he turned to look at her. Her face was lit up; he could tell that she was happy and comfortable here. "Let's get the blanket rolled out," she said, lifting the leather strap over his head and spreading the blanket out on the sand.
She sat on the edge of the blanket, extending her feet onto the sand, and bent to untie her boots. The laces were soaked, and the knots were persistent. Hando watched her ministrations for a minute, watching her shoulders move beneath her sweater, before setting the bags of food down and kneeling on the blanket across from her. Finally the knots gave in, and she set her boots neatly in the sand before sliding further back onto the blanket and drawing her knees up to her chest. She hugged her legs to her body and rested her chin on her knees, gazing toward the horizon. Hando approached her on his hands and knees, not realizing that he had just tracked sand across the blanket, and sat back on his heels directly behind her, contemplating. He came to a decision and shifted, stretching his legs out on either side of her before reaching to grip her shoulders in his strong hands.
She jumped slightly at his touch but relaxed quickly as he massaged her shoulders, pressing his fingers into sore muscles and drawing out the ache. Her arms dropped slowly from their position around her legs to rest on his shins, and she moaned softly, unconsciously. She allowed her head to loll forward on her neck, relishing in the feel of his strong hands on her shoulders, feeling the tension fade from her muscles to leave her feeling like putty. I'd better be careful here, her conscience chimed in, but she nipped the guardian angel in the bud and relaxed further into his touch, leaning back to increase the pressure of his hands. It didn't surprise her when she felt the heat of his breath on the back of her neck, immediately preceeding the moist heat of his lips and tongue on her skin. She turned her head to the side, opening her neck to his attentions, and sighed deeply as his arms came around her shoulders and tightened around her, pressing her back into his chest and holding her there.
She stayed motionless for a few minutes, trying not to listen to her subconscious voice but finally giving in. She drew in a deep breath and moved to lean forward, hampered by Hando's embrace. "Mmm... hey, you hungry?"
Hando's voice was barely a whisper, husky with desire, "Yeah."
Syrena chuckled and extricated herself from his embrace, "Well, let's see how those guys did with our lunch then."
Hando looked at her as she turned to face him, his eyes dark with emotion, but she just smiled at him and moved out from between his legs to dig through the bags of food. Within moments, a veritable banquet of food was laid out in the centre of the blanket, and she sat with her legs bent to one side. "Looks like they did a bang up job," he said shakily, trying to bring his body under control, thankful that he was still wearing the long jacket and glad to change his position. They ate in silence. She's so quiet, so unlike Gabe. I almost had her there, but that wall came back. We'll have to work on that later. Once sated, they packed the remaining food into the boxes and sat watching the sea birds wheel and dive above the breakers.
"Ah, shit," Steve cursed out loud, shoving his beer to the side.
"That's an understatement." Kelly turned back to the group, her eyes meeting Zack's. They all stood in silence for several minutes, none of them knowing quite what to do next.
Arthur and Annabella moved first, gathering up the spilled bandages before hurrying towards the fireside room, leaving the others to stare at each other.
"Well," Jeffrey Wigand spoke finally, "let's make ourselves useful, boys." He stood slowly, rubbing his hands together. "Sid's still tucked away in the storage room. We had best put him back together."
"Are you crazy!?" Andy blurted out and then clamped his lips together when Jeff looked at him, eyebrow raised.
"Andy does have a point, Jeff." Steve watched as Andy busied himself with cleaning the broken glass at his feet. "The last thing we need around here is Sid. Couldn't we just leave him unconscious for awhile?"
Zack shook his head slowly. "Can you imagine how pissed he's going to be already for being left out of the loop for as long as he has been... It will be even worse if we leave him for a couple more days." Zack slipped out of his jacket and passed it to Kelly. "Jeffrey's right. We had best get it over with. We'll just have to keep an eye on the little shit.
"Great!" Steve added with a roll of his eyes, "So we get to babysit the SOB... That's just how I wanted to spend my evening!!"
Sid breathed deeply, letting his lungs fill with air. His head felt thick; his mouth pasty and dry. He lay still, familiarizing himself with his surroundings, sensing that there were other people in the room with him.
"You think he'll come around soon?" Sid recognized Steve's voice instantly.
"Just give him a second, he'll wake up soon enough," Zack spoke from beside him. Sid smiled inwardly, remembering his last few waking moments. They were going to pay for interfering with his plans. He blinked slowly, allowing them to think that he was just coming to.
"Here he comes." Jeffrey Wigand nodded and the three of them watched as Sid opened his eyes and focused on them one by one. They all stared at each other for several seconds, until Sid gave them a sly smile.
"Gentlemen." He nodded, attempting to sit up, but Zack set a firm hand on his shoulder and pressed him back to the floor.
"Hold up, Sid." Zack gave him a narrow glance. "We want to talk to you for a minute." Sid noted the serious looks on their faces, and he relaxed underneath Zack's grip, waiting. When Sid didn't speak, Jeffrey leaned in, giving him a studied glare.
"Sid, we want you to lay low for a while."
He stared up at the old man, immediately wondering what turn of events he had missed.
"What could I have possibly done now, Jeffrey," he replied with a saucy grin.
"You've done nothing and everything, Sid.... just by being your shitty self," Zack growled at him. "What with the stunts you and Hando pulled last night!"
"That!?" Sid giggled under his breath. "That was just fun and games -- things were getting so dull around here. I just thought we could liven it up a bit."
"Well things have been livened up enough to last until next Christmas!"Steve's comment really had Sid curious now.
Sid looked up at them innocently, a look of concern crossing his face. "Is everything alright? This all sounds quite serious, gentlemen."
"It is. Very serious, Sid. And that is why we need you to lay low, Sid. Have a bit of decency...." Jeffrey paused as he realized who he was actually talking to. He took a deep breath and continued, "Just give everyone a bit of space for a couple of days, okay?"
"Certainly Jeffrey." Sid nodded slowly and the others seemed surprised by his sudden agreement.
"We mean it, Sid." Zack shook his arm roughly. "No stupid shit from you. If I catch word of you causing any trouble, you'll meet the end of my baseball bat. You understand me?!"
Sid raised his arms, his face a mask of innocence. "Of course, Zachary. I'll lay low, I promise." Zack eyed him warily. "You won't hear any offensive word out of me. Scout's honor." Sid held up his right hand, a solemn look on his face.
"Fuck your scout's honor, Sid. Just keep your mouth shut and your ass out of trouble." Zack gave Sid a final shove before he stood and walked out the door, the others right behind him.
As soon as they were out the door, Sid hopped to his feet. He ran a hand over the open wound on the back of his head before bringing his fingers to his lips, flicking his tongue over the blue goo that lay on his fingertips.
"Fresh blood." Sid's eyes sparkled as he thought of the possibilities that awaited him. He'd have some investigating to do, as it was obvious he had missed some major happenings in the last while. He glanced at the watch on his wrist; he had been unconscious for over fifteen hours. His eyes narrowed as he thought of all that he could have missed.
"You've got a lot of catching up to do, Sid." He walked calmly over to the glass window pane, smashing it with his fist. It shattered into tiny pieces and Sid shoved several of them into his mouth, feeling the silicon particles instantly healing the wound on the back of his head. They had put a stop to his fun last night, he thought with a smile, but it sounded like the real excitement was just beginning.
"Tina?" the voice called from the hall side of the door to room 205. There was another knock, more insistent this time. "Tina love, it's Jeff Mitchell. You there, hon?"
Curling herself up even more in the armchair, tugging a soft, solid white afghan about her, Tina sniffed, wiping tears from her face. She had been in her own world since returning to the suite, her thoughts consumed by what had happened between her and the Alaskan. She barely remembered what had occurred since returning. There was a faint memory of running up the path, pausing at the front door, then glancing back at John's anguished face. After that, everything was a blur.
Now, she could have sworn there was a knock, accompanied by an Australian accent, but she still couldn't respond.
"Love, are you all right? It's Jeff. Can you answer me?"
She cleared her throat. "Coming Jeff," she called back, fumbling a little as she pushed her body from the chair's security. Afghan still draped about her, she padded barefoot to the door, leaving the chain in place as she made a small opening and peeped out. Mitchell's smiling but concerned features could be clearly seen. "Jeff...hi," she mumbled, wishing she could again be alone.
"'Jeff...hi'? That's all you have to say, eh, Tina Renee? You've hurt my feelings," he teased, then he grew more serious on seeing that tears threatened to spill. "Ah hon, I'm sorry, really I am. I hate disturbing you, but we've been worried sick to death about you."
"We?" she whispered, switching her weight to another foot. If she didn't sit soon, she would end up on the floor.
"Me, Peaches, Trisha, Kath, Stef. Not to mention Laura - she got back this morning while you were gone...."
"Laura's here too?" she questioned.
Jeff nodded. "And the Boyz and.... Hey, mind if I step on in, love?"
"Oh...Oh I'm sorry, Jeff. Sure...come on in, please," she said, unhooking the chain and allowing him inside. "I'm being a real lousy host."
"No problem at all, love. I told Peaches I'd make sure you were all right, what with everything going on."
Tina nodded absently, indicating a chair for him to take. Her mind elsewhere, she began to play the role of perfect hostess by asking, "Oh, would you like something: bottled water, iced tea, a wine cooler?" Then she suddenly realized what he had mentioned at the end. "What did you-- What with what going on?"
"That's why I came to see if you were all right, Tina hon. A few of the others went to check on John."
"John?" Her voice was small, and although sitting again, she moved forward on hearing her companion's name. "What's wrong with-- I don't understand what you mean by 'everything going on.' What exactly is going on, Jeff?"
Jeff's eyes lowered as he shook his head. "Of course you haven't heard, have you, love...you've been here." He sighed, looking back at her worried face.
"Jeff...what's wrong?" Her voice began to rise. "Is it John? Did something happen to John?" Oh Lord...what if it had? She couldn't bear the idea that their last meeting was an argument. "Jeff--"
"No, no, Johnny's fine, Tina Renee. He's fine. It's just-- Well love, I don't know how to say this, but you and John are the talk of the CrowesNest."
"Huh?" She was now even more puzzled.
"You and John are.... Well, I think almost everyone knows about the parking lot incident."
Tina fell back in her seat, protectively drawing the afghan more tightly around her. "But...But...But...How?" She swallowed hard. "It was... I mean how was.... It was only John and.... Oh, John wouldn't have said...."
"Oh no love, John wouldn't have told a soul, but it wasn't John who said anything....Unfortunately...it was Andy." The second Tina heard the young man's name she realized how bad this was. As much as she liked him, his mouth often got him in loads of trouble. If he even heard one-third of what was said that afternoon, it was no surprise she and John were now the talk of the town. The boy's mind was almost photographic when it came to conversations. "Peaches sent him to find John...and he was hiding when you two started arguing."
Tina could only bury her face in her hands, and Jeff could hear her mumbling, "Oh Lord no, no...." over and over. She finally looked back at him, her face flushed from embarrassment and hurt. "I still don't...I don't get any of this about Andy. Andy was eavesdropping?"
"Well that's what Zack told me. He was there when Andy told what happened between you and John. Like I said, Peaches sent Andy to find John because of...." He paused only momentarily as he came to a quick decision. Tina was distraught enough without hearing about Colin O'Brien's stupidity, so Jeff said, "....well, they needed him over at the Tavern."
"Right."
"Andy said he remembered seeing the two of you in the restaurant, well, when Rick and I were there and then Hando.... Well, Andy saw you then. So he headed towards the hotel, saw you two, and was about to interrupt when...." He sighed. "Well when... He heard both of you, hon, down to the last detail, but you know how Andy is."
"I know how Andy is," she whispered, fresh tears springing in her eyes. Sniffing, she managed, "You said Zack told you?"
Jeff nodded reluctantly. "Like I said, Tina Renee, he was there." Tina shook her head. "Oh, at the bar, sweetie. Zack was at the bar when Andy told the story. Then he told me."
She swallowed hard. "Jeff...exactly...how many people were...at the bar?"
Jeff lowered his eyes again. "Uh...well, Zack was there with Kelly; uh...Steve; uh...Jeff Wigand." Tina groaned as she realized he wasn't done. "Arthur; Annabella...." She was hiding her face again now. "I believe that's it, hon. Oh and young Johnny, and Andy naturally. Sorry." Tina groaned louder. "Steve just asked if anything had been going on today, and the talk led to...." He shrugged. "Oh Tina," he whispered, watching her trembling figure. Realizing she was softly crying, Jeff came to her side, sitting on a chair arm. "Love it's all right. It's all right." He gently patted her back. "This kind of news was going to hit anyway. The CrowesNest is too close-knit."
"But it shouldn't have hit like this," she finally managed. "John and I would have told everyone in our own way...when we were ready. I'm still confused myself, so I can't even imagine how John feels." She sighed, wiping her eyes. "Has anyone told John?"
"About this? What happened? They...They don't...Tina...John overheard Andy running his trap. He already knows."
"Oh God...."
"Zack said John looked so devastated, like the world had collapsed." Tina nodded for she felt the same. "Poor John. To walk in and hear yourself talked about, especially something that emotional. Man...what a blow. And Andy feels bad too, Tina. You know how he is. He'd never intentionally hurt somebody."
She nodded, knowing that this was likely quite difficult for the young incarnation. He was gentle and sweet natured, and she knew him to be very fond of her and John, but there were times.... Tina sighed. Everyone always said his mouth and ears would get him in trouble, and on more than one occasion, Trisha had jokingly said she hoped Andy's soul mate would show up soon. Perhaps *she* could keep him occupied.
"I know he wouldn't," Tina said softly, looking down at her hands, sighing. She could still hear him from earlier at the restaurant, saying how obvious it was the couple cared for each other. That seemed so long ago now.
"He loves you and John so much. He'd never do anything to hurt you two."
"Yeah...I know."
"I'm just sorry I'm the one breaking this to you, hon. We all have just sort of split up to see what we can do to help out. With few exceptions, we help each other, Tina - we're family."
She grabbed a tissue from a box on the table beside her, then wiped her eyes and blew her nose. "You're a wonderful family. Better than what I have back in the real world," she confessed.
Jeff smiled, giving her another pat. "Well we Boyz owe you all everything. That's why all of this hurts so much. Look, you'll come down with me, won't you? Nobody's gonna judge you."
"No, but they'll stare and point and whisper, and stop whispering when they see me. And they'll say they thought John and I were wonderful together, and they're so sorry. I...I can't deal with that now, Jeff, I just can't. Not the stares, not the whispers...."
"I understand. No, it's not a comfortable feeling," he said, pushing his hair behind his ears. Briefly, his movement reminded her of John. "I don't blame you, love, but I hate thinking about you all alone in here."
"I'll be fine, Jeff, really. I appreciate you checking on me though."
"No problem, Tina. And don't worry. It'll blow over before you know it, and you and John will be back to being a couple again. It won't be a day too soon...."
Fifteen minutes later, Tina was still in the chair, legs pulled under her, afghan wrapped even tighter, as she held an 8 x 10 sterling silver frame in her hands. It normally sat on a round table beside her bed, a place of honor for it, but now, she wanted it close. Steve had taken the photograph only a month or so before, just at dusk on a beautiful midsummer's day. Tina and John had posed out in the English gardens, so with the sky behind them a soft blend of colors, and the roses at their finest, the setting was spectacular. The two had been quite natural with her head resting against the sheriff's broad chest, and his arms wrapped about her waist. You could see the affection in their eyes; feel the warmth radiating from the scene. At that moment, they were the Nest's perfect couple, along with Colin and Michelle.
Now Colin and Michelle.... Tina wished she could push out of her mind the memory of her girlfriend's almost broken body on the floor of the Tavern, and the drunken tears Colin shed at the idea of nearly losing her forever. True, the Australian had been intoxicated, but there was no doubting his love for Michelle, were it not for this unexpected jealousy which had started gnawing at him.
The perfect couples. Tina let a finger stroke the outline of her and John's figures as her lower lip quivered. She whispered a dispirited "John...oh, John," before hiding her face in the back of the chair, her chest aching as a series of hard sobs tore at her.
Syrena sat once again with her knees drawn up to her chest and her arms wrapped around them. The fabric of her jeans had become so cold against her skin that she didn't even feel it anymore. and she knew that she should get out of them, give them a chance to dry out in what was left of the autumnal sun. How am I supposed to do that? Should I really sit here in my boxers with Hando here feeling so randy? She closed her eyes and hugged her legs tighter to her chest, listening to the constant sound of the waves breaking against the shore. She heard Hando come up beside her before she felt him put his arm around her shoulders.
"You cold, love?" he asked quietly.
"Not too bad, Hando. I should've brought an extra pair of jeans."
He reached down and placed his free hand on her shin. "Bloody hell, those are freezing, Sy."
"Yeah, I can't feel it much anymore," she grinned. "I usually bring a spare pair of jeans with me, but I left them in the truck, and I'm not in the mood to walk back that far right now."
"I'll go get 'em," he said determinedly, pushing himself off the blanket. "Keys?" She unclipped her keyring from her belt loop and dropped it heavily into his extended hand. "Great, anything else?"
"Ahh... well, the jeans and a dry pair of socks are in the pack. That oughta do it." At that he spun on his heels and walked back to the north with long strides. "Thanks," she called after him. He acknowledged her with a wave of his hand and kept going. She watched him go until he disappeared from view behind the monolith of basalt, then she sighed deeply, lying back on the blanket with her hands behind her head. The sun blazed with mid-afternoon intensity, warming her as she lay there, and she closed her eyes against the brilliance. The sounds of the ocean filled her head as she leisurely drifted off to sleep.
A bloom of sparks flew from the circuit box, landing on the wood floor and sizzling there for a second. A single flame appeared within the box, flickering brightly in the darkness, well fed on the plastic wire coverings before creeping out of the box and up the wall. The wall caught quickly, the dry particle board providing an apt accelerant, and the flame grew, creeping up the wall and spreading its destructive fingers across the ceiling. A waft of acrid smoke drifted down the hallway and crept under the bedroom door, drifting in tendrils onto the bed and finding its way under the covers to touch the sleeping form there.
The fire made its way hungrily across the ceiling, creeping quickly and almost silently to gnaw on the next wall. The hall door was closed, and the fire complained at this, battering it persistently with heat and flame until it gave way. Flames blackened the ceiling of the room, burning mercilessly until the timbers gave way with a creak and the ceiling fell in. Fresh air rushed in feeding the fire which moved to work on the walls of the room, burning through them slowly, forcing its way through. It rushed down the hallway, licking in passing at the books on the shelves lining the narrow passage before coming to a stop at the bedroom door.
Smoke came in gouts of black ash under the door, and the sleeping form sat up abruptly. Shit shit shit. The window at the bedside was thrown open, and more fresh air hurried in to feed the fire, drawn by its heat, and a half-asleep figure tripped out the window to lie in a crumpled heap on the ground below. The fire burst through the door with a whoosh, dashing across the ceiling, lifting papers and throwing wall hangings to the floor. A square of flickering light illuminated the distraught figure outside the window as she crept backwards, crablike, away from the inferno, muttering wordlessly under her breath. Several explosions reached her ears from inside, and a large crash was heard as another section of the ceiling collapsed.
Someone touched her shoulder briefly before passing between her and the fire. The coolness of his shadow was welcomed, but it soon passed as he approached the burning house. She reached out and grabbed him with an iron grip. "No," she cried. "No, shit, no!" her voice cracked, and tears ran down her face uncontrollably. He tried to pull out of her grasp, but she held him tightly--she couldn't let him risk his life to save anything in there--as if her very life depended on it.
"Syrena. Let go, Sy. Come on, it's okay. What is it? Sy, wake up. Come on, love. It's a dream, wake up."
The house was a blackened hole, and the flames guttered as they ran out of fodder. Timbers lay canted awkwardly against the sky, blackened and crumbling. She woke abruptly to find her hand clutched in Hando's t-shirt and him kneeling over her, shading her from the heat of the sun, shaking her gently and pleading with her to wake up. Though she was awake, the vision was still with her, and the tears refused to stop flowing. She sat up, bringing her knees to her chest and burying her face in her hands, sobbing quietly.
Hando sat beside her and wrapped his arms around her. "Sy, what's the matter? What happened? You were dreaming; it was just a dream, wasn't it?
She turned to press her face against his chest, sniffling, glad for once that there was someone there when she awoke. So many nightmares, so much solitude, so many nights alone. She took a deep breath, inhaling his scent, feeling his arms tighten around her as her lungs inflated, and reached up to wipe the tears from her face before pushing back to look him in the eyes. His eyes were filled with concern, and he rubbed his hands gently up and down her back. "Sorry 'bout that, Hando."
"Hey, no worries, love. What happened?"
"The fire... my...," she took a deep halting breath, trying not to break into tears again, "my whole life... everything. "Shit, I'm gonna start crying again."
"Shh, shh, it's okay, love. It was just a dream. Everything's okay."
She looked at him and smiled through the tears. "I wish it were, hon, damn but I wish it were." His expression became confused, begging an explanation, and Syrena sighed deeply preparing once again to recount the tale. "Okay... where to begin...." Concentrating on controlling her emotions, she explained the dream and explained the meaning behind it, the loss of her home and everything in it the previous summer. "My dad was going to go into the house, and we had to hold him back. That's why I couldn't let you go--you were going into the fire...," her voice broke, the tears coming again en masse, and she crumpled into Hando's warm embrace to bury her face against his chest.
"Oh, shit, Sy, I'm sorry." Hando held her close to his heart, humming softly in an attempt to comfort her, rubbing his hands up and down her heaving back until the frequency of the sobs became sparse and her breathing evened out. He continued humming as she drifted to sleep again, rocking her gently and trying to gather his muddled thoughts.
Sid entered the room, giving himself a quick glance in the mirror. He stopped suddenly, staring at his reflection. A look of irritation flickered across his face as his eyes surveyed his stained suit. He ran a lazy finger over his face, feeling a decidedly sticky residue. Bringing his fingers to his lips for the second time in only a few minutes, he tasted the sweetness of the KoolAid against his tongue. He remembered the cause of this mess and his eyes narrowed as his hand deftly began to undo the buttons on his suit jacket.
"You'll pay for this, Syrena," Sid hissed and then a hint of a smile crossed his lips. "But you'll have to wait your turn, my pretty. I have other business to catch up on first."
Relieving himself of his stained suit, Sid let it fall to the floor without a second thought. Naked, skin glowing bronze and muscles rippling, he moved around the room, picking out a new suit before he entered the bathroom and turned on the shower. He let the hot water run over his smooth skin, washing away the remnants of nanogoo and KoolAid. As the water cascaded over him, he let his mind wander over the possibilities of what could have happened in the past 15 hours. It must have been something serious, he thought, especially for someone like Jeffrey Wigand to get involved. The old man usually stayed away from most of the goings-on around the Crowe's Nest. Sid remembered the days past, when the Nest had been in an upheaval... an upheaval usually centered around him. He chuckled softly as he turned up the hot water slightly, sighing as its' heat hit his skin.
As if a light bulb had gone off in his head, Sid stood stock still, a sadistic smile plastering itself on his face. Max and John had usually been the ones to get him under control in situations like these. But they hadn't been there. And where were the other regulars? Cort, East, Colin... and the ladies, Tina, Laura and Michelle. Something was certainly up, something big, and Sid needed to find out now. He stepped out of the shower, drying himself off as he mulled these thoughts over in his mind. He had lost out last night, taking things over the top with his games and tricks. Today, he felt in a more subtle mood. He'd lay low, just like he'd promised the others. He'd lay low and find out everything he needed to know. And then he would strike when they were least expecting it, never knowing what hit them. Sid's laughter filled the room, and if anyone had been there, it would have sent shivers down their spine.
Syrena rose once again to consciousness, awakening to the rumble of Hando's humming against her cheek and the gentle swaying as he rocked back and forth. She sat there for a moment, cradled in his arms and wishing this single second could last forever, hoping against hope that nothing would ever happen to either of them again yet knowing deep down that there was more to come. She shifted slightly in his embrace, moving her elbow so it wasn't digging into his thigh, and felt his hand come up to entangle itself in her hair. He pressed his lips against the top of her head, still humming softly. She raised her head slightly, feeling his lips now warm on her forehead, and smiled groggily. "Thanks," the whisper was barely audible.
Hando leaned back slightly, gazing into her upturned face, her eyes still reddened and salty streaks marring her cheeks. He placed his free hand on her cheek and bent forward to plant a kiss beneath each eye. "It's okay, love. Everything is fine now. We're here... at the beach... just you...," kissing her between phrase, ".. and me... and the ocean." He punctuated the last word by brushing his lips softly against hers, and she could feel the stubble of his unshaven face against her skin. He leaned back again and looked into her eyes; she saw the conflict inside him and knew that he was fighting the urge to kiss her again, so she closed her eyes and lay her head once again on his chest, listening to his pounding heartbeat, enjoying the tenderness of his arms around her.
She took a deep breath, calming her roiling emotions, feeling better after having slept a little, and sat up. Hando's hands slid from her form as she moved, giving her freedom of motion, and she smiled warmly at him. "Thanks, Hando. Thanks for listening... thanks for... well, for being here for me. It's...," she sighed deeply. "Well, it's been a rough year, and the last 24 hours have been a wee bit stressful."
"Yeah, it's been quite a day," he smiled, agreeing whole heartedly.
Syrena shook off the sleep and the memories and stood up on the blanket. Her socks were now damp all the way to the toes, and she noticed her extra jeans and socks lying in a heap near Hando's foot. He found them, damn, what a guy. "Excuse me for a tick, will ya?" she said, grabbing the dry clothes and turning her back. She could feel his eyes on her as she unbuttoned the damp jeans and slid them over her hips to expose a pair of flannel boxer shorts with dogs on them. "Ya don't have to watch, ya know," she stated, glancing over her shoulder and smiling at the blush that rose from the collar of his t-shirt to his ears before he turned sharply to face the waves.
She pulled her jeans and socks on quickly then padded across the blanket to stand behind Hando, considering her next move for a split second. What am I getting myself into? The question flitted across her mind, duly ignored, before she knelt behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and pulled him back against her. His pulse thudded against her skin as he tilted his head back to rest on her shoulder and placed his hands over hers. Syrena took a deep breath and traced the black line of his tattoo up to his ear where she whispered, "Thanks for understanding, Hando." She kissed his cheek gently, trying not to let her lips linger too long on his warm flesh, and stood up to retrieve her boots. "Now let's get up and do something besides sitting around here all day feeling gloomy," she laughed, picking up the jacket and tying it once again around her waist. "I don't know about you, but I'm in the mood to climb that rock."
Hando took her hand when she offered it, and they made their way to the base of the rock. He watched her scan the side of the monolith for a good route to the top, then glanced out at the pounding surf. The waves crept along the edge of the rock, coming almost halfway to the lee end, and he suddenly thought about the tides. "The... how far in does the tide come here?"
"It usually comes just high enough so we'd have to walk through a couple inches of water at high tide to stand here."
"And what's the high tide supposed to be today?"
"Ya know, that's a good question. I haven't checked a tide table in ages, but I can't imagine it would be a record high or anything...," her voice trailed off as she continued scanning the side of the rock. "Anyhow, if the tide came in higher we'd just have to stay up there for eight hours until it turned," she grinned. "So you up for this? You ever climbed before?"
"Besides rooftops? No."
"Well, here we go. Follow my lead, step where I step, and always double check your hold before you move to the next one. Always make sure you've got at least one handhold secure, preferably two before you move to find a new foothold, and if you slip, don't panic. Just hold on, gather your wits and find a foothold. If you want to turn back at any time, just let me know, and we'll head back down." She stepped to the face of the rock and looked up at the incline. It was nearly vertical, but the striations in the basalt provided many hand- and footholds. "It is quite a ways up there, isn't it?"
Hando looked up, trying to gauge the height and compare it to the roof of the warehouse. The rock was nearly twice as high as the warehouse roof, and he took a deep breath to steel his nerves before nodding his head, "Yeah, quite a ways."
Syrena stretched to reach a handhold far above her head then pulled herself up slightly to reach a foothold about four feet from the base. He watched her move from handhold to handhold, like a spider on its web, the jacket tied around her waist swinging with the movement and the wind. She was about eight feet up when he stepped to the rock face and reached for the handhold he'd seen her use. The rock was cool and rough beneath his fingers, and he followed her, looking up to see how far ahead of him she was, trying to kerb his imagination. A small water worn pebble clattered down, glancing off his shoulder painlessly and seeming to hit every handhold on the way down. The sound echoed against the sand blasted cliff at the back of the cove, and Syrena looked down, "Sorry 'bout that. That didn't hit you did it?"
He met her eyes, seeing her confidence and concern. "No worries, love," he called up to her, raising his voice to counter the sound of the wind and waves. She continued climing, and he followed methodically, slipping from time to time but thankful for her admonishment--always have at least one solid handhold. She glanced down at him periodically, checking on him, and each time he caught her glance he felt his heart jump in his chest. She's watching out for me. If I fell, she'd probably carry me back to the truck and drive back to town. He smiled and reached up for another handhold, surprised to feel her hand in his as she gripped his hand tightly to help him clamber to the top of the rock. The horizon stretched out endlessly, and the wind whipped around his form causing him to stumble on the uneven surface. "Bloody amazing, Sy," he said, his voice laden with awe.
The top of the monolith was nearly flat, and it extended for about twenty feet from edge to edge. They made their way to the centre of the narrow plateau, and Syrena lowered herself to the ground, leaning against a protuberance of basalt. "It is amazing up here, isn't it. Damn, but I love it here." Hando sat down next to her, leaning against the same rock the she was, turned to her and smiled warmly. She rested her hand on his bent knee and met his smile, "I'm glad you came today, Hando. I really needed this, and... well... I guess I have an overdeveloped sense of responsibility because my mum would kill me if I climbed up here alone." She tilted her head back and laughed joyously. "Mum's not even here, and I can't climb a rock because she'd flip out. Sheesh," she sighed, shaking her head in mock disgust.
Hando put his hand over hers on his knee, gently as if it would break when he touched it, bowed his head and closed his eyes. "At least you've got a mum to worry about you," he murmured.
With a satisfied smile, Sid glanced over his reflection once more in the mirror, running his hands over his suit. "Perfection." He smirked, giving himself a not so subtle wink. "Not let's find out what the world's been up to, shall we?"
Moments later, he stood at the top of the stairs, watching and observing. He noticed instantly the tension that hovered in the Tavern; how everyone was whispering amongst themselves over their afternoon beers. And once again, he noticed the absence of the regular crowd: Sheriff Pudgy and his Tina; Colin and the always smiling Michelle; the General and even the always pleasant Officer White. Sid's smile turned into a firm crease. Something was definitely underfoot. And I'm not a part of it. Sid frowned, his eyes scanning the room once again. And he found just the person he needed. "I'm not a part of it... yet," Sid whispered as he slithered his way down the stairs, his eyes focused intently on the bar. Andy leaned against the counter at the far end, his head in his hands and a worried expression on his young face. Laura, the lovely Laura, sat next to him. Both of them seemed to be drowning their sorrows together. Sid pulled up beside them quietly, sliding onto one of the nearby stools. Laura noticed him first, immediately giving him a look of disgust.
"A scotch if you please, Andy... straight up," Sid ordered, crossing his fingers together patiently. He watched Andy rise slowly and go about his duty, sensing the daggers that Laura was throwing in his direction.
"Since when did you start drinking, Sid?" she scowled at him as Andy placed his glass on the counter.
"Ever since you broke my heart, darling." Sid looked at her finally, giving a mocking smile as his hand clutched the suit material over his heart.
"You have no heart, Sid. It would have been better if they had left you unconscious... Hell, I would have gladly misplaced your character module for you."
Sid gasped in pretend shock. "Oh my dear sweet Laura. You wound me so... and you being keeper of my precious module... I'm crushed."
Laura gave him a dirty look as she picked up her glass of wine. "I'm in no mood for your antics today, Sid. It's been one hell of a day already...." She turned away from him abruptly, leaving Andy standing alone behind the bar.
Sid smiled inwardly, his plan already working. He turned to the young bartender and sighed softly. "It must have been one HELL of a day, Andy!?" He repeated Laura's words, rolling his eyes.
Andy glanced nervously around the room. "You mean you haven't heard?"
"Of course I've heard..." Sid paused, waving his hand, "I've heard all about it." A look of relief washed over Andy's face, but he remained quiet, absently fingering the bottles behind the bar. Sid decided to push a little further. "What with the way everyone is acting, it's like someone died..." Andy's eyes widened instantly and he glanced up quickly, staring at Sid.
"Chelle almost did die!" He blurted out, nodding towards the upper floor of the Tavern "That fall from the balcony had us all worried. And then Colin... shit. Who in hell tries to take on a speeding train!"
"No kidding." Sid shook his head in amazement. Meanwhile his mind was wrapping itself around the information that Andy was providing.
"And then the whole thing with Tina and John...." Andy paled, and Sid noticed him shiver suddenly.
"Mmmmm." Sid nodded as he took a sip of his scotch. The liquid tasted bland as it ran over his tongue and down his throat.
"Everyone was surprised by that one...." Andy wiped absently at the counter, his forehead furrowed nervously.
"Oh yeah... that one took me completely by surprise too... Who'd have thought..." Sid shook his head, watching the rest of the Tavern in the mirror behind the bar.
"They were fightin' something awful.... and it was all about Hando." Andy shivered again and then as he glanced up, Sid noticed his face turn an even whiter shade of pale. With another quick look in the mirror, Sid saw John Biebe descending the staircase. His broad shoulders seemed weighted down, dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. Sid glanced back towards the end of the bar where Andy stood, but he only caught a glimpse of the young man retreating into the back room.
"So much for stool pigeons..." Sid mumbled with a half smile, swirling the scotch in his glass mindlessly. He continued to watch in the mirror as John approached Lachlan at the other end of the bar. A movement across the room drew Sid's attention away from the pilot and the sheriff. A peaked looking Arthur was closing the fireside room door, his arms filled with bloody rags. Seconds after he disappeared into the back of the Tavern, the door opened again and Maximus appeared, wiping his hands on a soiled towel. The general walked slowly up to the bar and Lachlan offered him a tall glass of red wine, which Maximus drank gratefully.
"How is he? Lachlan asked, his voice low, but not too low for Sid to hear.
"The bastard's lucky. When he recovers fully, I'm going to take him out back and teach him some sense."
"Get in line, General." Biebe shook his head.
"But he's alright?" Lachlan asked again.
"Yeah... I stitched up his hands and his forehead, and his leg too. Did the best I could with what I had. He'll have scars to show for it, that's for sure."
"Well... it's either that or take him to the hospital and have the doctors and cops breathing down our necks," John scowled as he leaned against the bar.
"Shit... it may already be too late for that," Lachlan sighed. "Peaches sent Cort and East after Colin's car. They haven't made it back yet."
"If we get an army of police officers down here...." Maximus didn't finish the thought for they all knew what it meant, even Sid. The Crowe's Nest would never be the same again. "I'm sure they'll be all right..." Maximus continued after several moments.
"Is he awake?" Max nodded as John asked.
"On and off. Arthur brought him down some new clothes. He's just resting now. I told him not to try and go anywhere, that we were going to want to talk to him."
John shook his head solemnly, "I'm not the one to do it, Max... not this time." Maximus glanced at the sheriff, his face softening. He set a hand on John's shoulder.
"I know, John. And I know I'm not either. I want to shake some sense into him, and I'd probably end up shaking him a bit too hard," Maximus chuckled softly, but it died in his throat as Jeffrey Wigand approached the group.
"G'day Jeff," Lachlan nodded towards the older gentleman.
"Hello boys. I was just curious as to how our Australian patient was doing."
"He'll live through it, Jeffrey," Maximus said plainly. "The question should be, will he survive our reprimand?" Wigand nodded thoughtfully. Maximus gestured between himself and John before he added, "But neither of us
are quite up to the task. We've both seen enough of his stupidity to last us until next season. We'd end up strangle his sorry ass...."
"I could do it." Jeffrey glanced between them. "If you like, that is."
"You sure, Jeffrey?" John eyed him carefully. "Colin's put the whole Nest at risk with the stunt he pulled today."
"Is he up to visitors?"
"He doesn't have much of a choice, Jeffrey." Max slid off his seat and lead Wigand towards the fireside room.
Sid watched them leave, making certain John and Lachlan returned to their private conversation before he stood up and headed towards the main doors of the Tavern. It had been quite the day, it seemed. What with Michelle's tumble off the balcony; Colin's stupidity, and there seemed to be something happening between the poor Sheriff and his lovely Etienne. Sid slid unnoticed out the front door and positioned himself strategically next to one of the open windows connected to the fireside room.
Colin stared blankly at the blazing fire, his bandaged hands resting uselessly on his lap. Maximus had given him something to dull the pain, but he found that it still hurt even to breathe. He pushed thoughts of Michelle from his mind, knowing that they would only make the pain worse. He closed his eyes and wished for the unconsciousness to return. His hopes faded as he heard the door behind him open and close.
"Colin..." Jeffrey Wigand pulled up a chair and seated himself next to the fire. "How are you feeling?" Colin glanced up slowly, looking over Jeffrey's shoulder to see Maximus standing guard at the door. He turned his gaze back to the fire, clenching his teeth together.
"We're not taking any more of your nonsense, O'Brien. Smarten up or it won't be just a train you'll be having a run-in with today," Max hissed from the shadows. Jeffrey raised a hand, quieting the general.
"It's quite alright, Max. He doesn't have to talk if he doesn't want to. I just want him to listen."
Colin shifted restlessly in his seat, grimacing as a pain shot up his leg. Jeffrey Wigand leaned in closer.
"I've heard some of what you and Michelle have been through this morning, Colin. I'm sorry to hear it." Jeffrey watched as Colin's eyes softened at the mention of her name. "But there are more serious matters that I am here to talk about." Jeffrey paused, making certain that the Australian was listening. "Your foolishness with the train today put everyone at risk, Colin. Do you realize that?" He paused again, waiting for Colin's reaction. There was none, so he continued. "What if the cops had happened upon you before Loria had come along? The train engineer reported the accident to the local train station. It's all quite possible that you could be laying in a hospital bed right now. And we could have the police descending on this place.... Do you realize what would have happened then?" Jeffrey sat up, letting Colin think about what he was saying. He noticed Colin's eyes flicker in the firelight, his Adam's apple shifting nervously as he swallowed hard. "That's right... The Nest would be plastered all over the papers. We'd have lost everything, Colin. Everything." The last word came out as a sigh, and there were several more moments of silence.
"I'm not going to tell you what to do with yourself, son. That's up to you. But when you pull a stunt that jeopardizes everyone's existence.... that is something completely different, and something that none of us will tolerate." Jeffrey gave Colin a final look, but the young man's gaze remained low. Standing slowly, Jeffrey set the chair back against the wall. "You pull your shit together, O'Brien... or you'll have all of us to answer to."
The long hot shower had soothed her aching muscles and washed away the sweat and tears of the last few hours. Michelle looked at herself in the mirror, feeling slightly refreshed, and just about ready to start another day. Studying her reflection, she let her eyes run over her body, noting the large series of bruises that ran from her shoulders down to the thighs, as well as the hand-shaped bruises on her upper arms where one of the guys - she didn't remember who in the blur of last night - had gripped her harshly. A knock at the bathroom door startled her out of her thoughts.
"Michelle?" She sighed in relief at the sound of Jeffrey Mitchell's voice. "Everything alright in there?"
"Yeah, Jeff, I'm just about done. I'll be out in two ticks."
"Good on ya, love. Peaches' sent up some food with orders that I make sure you eat everything, including the tray."
Michelle chuckled softly, "Just have to get dressed, Jeff... I'll be right there."
"No worries, love. I'll be out in the sitting room..." Michelle wrapped a towel tightly around her, looking at herself once more in the mirror before she opened the door and stepped out into the bedroom. She dressed as quickly as she could, wincing periodically as her bruised body protested. But soon she was ready, wearing a comfortable pair of khakis and a deep blue, long sleeved shirt, her damp hair hanging down over her shoulders.
Jeff stood and came to greet her when she came into the sitting room, planting a welcoming kiss on her cheek. "You look refreshed and raring to go...." Michelle smiled back and took his hand as he led her to the table. "Fruit, toast, a little bit of yogurt, some orange juice and ginger ale." Michelle stared down at the overflowing tray, suddenly realizing how hungry she actually was.
"And the daisies?" She looked at Jeff, picking up one of the freshly cut flowers and twirling it between her fingers before she brought to her nose. She looked at him, her blue eyes sparkling. Jeff glanced away bashfully, his cheeks turning a pleasant shade of pink. "It's a wonderful touch, thank you, Jeff." She squeezed his hand, smiling. Jeff reached behind her, pulling out a chair and Michelle clenched her teeth as her bruised butt hit the wooden seat.
"Hold up there love... Sorry about that." Jeff had her stand again briefly as he set a cushion on the chair. "That ought to help some."
"Thanks Jeff... I think I'm going to be either standing or lying down for the next couple of days." She laughed, trying to make light of it. But the look on Jeff's face made the noise die in her throat. She took a deep breath, reaching for the glass of ginger ale. "I'll be fine, Jeff. Bruises heal."
"Your bruises are not my only worry, Chelle." Jeff continued to look at her as he seated himself across the table. Michelle glanced away uncomfortably, picking absently at her breakfast tray. "You gave us all a good scare... including Colin."
Michelle bit her lower lip, thinking about the fight that had occurred earlier that morning, the one that no one else had seen. She thought of how she had yelled at Colin then, seeing the ashamed look on his face as he stood at the bottom of the stairs. She realized that she had been holding her breath and let it out in a long slow exhale. "How is he?" she asked finally as she picked up a slice of toast. Jeff smiled softly at her, his eyes looking at her sadly.
"He's a little worse for wear." Michelle frowned slightly as he said this.
"He's bad off?" She set the piece of toast back down on the plate, her stomach doing flip flops. Jeff paused, glancing out the window before he spoke and Michelle noticed his hesitation.
"Like I said, he's a little worse for wear. He done a couple of stupid things since last night." Michelle looked at Jeff, her eyes widening. "What's he done?" Michelle felt chills run down her back, immediately sensing that something serious had happened.
Jeff took her hand in his. "Nothing to fret yourself over now, love. Colin's just fine. Now sit here and eat something, or else Peaches will have my head. You can go down to the Tavern in a bit. I'm sure Colin will be glad to see that you're doing well. He's been worried about you." Michelle looked at Jeff for another moment before she turned back to her breakfast tray. She had no desire to eat, but she knew that Jeff wouldn't let her move without at least eating something. She picked up a slice of fresh apple and chewed on it thoughtfully, wondering what Colin could possibly have done to himself since she had seen him this morning.
"There's a good girl..." Jeff smiled and leaned back in his chair.
The wind had risen to a howl, but it seemed to fall silent at the sound of his voice. The waves ceased to pound, the wind died to a breath, and Syrena heard his murmur clear as a bell. In the sudden silence, broken only by the pounding of her heart, she turned to look at him with unbridled compassion in her eyes. "Oh, Hando, I'm sorry. I... I didn't realize...." The wind picked up again, whipping around the two figures atop the monolith as if it were sent to dethrone them, and the sea renewed its fury upon the shore. On the horizon the blackest clouds loomed menacingly, rising up in billowing whorls and casting eerie shadows on the grey sea.
Hando's chin nearly touched his chest, and she could see the conflict in him as he drew in long breaths of the salty air. She felt his hand move, his fingers trembling almost imperceptibly as he slowly turned and slipped his hand under hers, palm to palm, and entwined his fingers with hers. "'S okay, Sy. You didn't know," his voice was quiet, strained, and his chin didn't move from his chest. He squeezed her hand gently and abruptly raised his eyes to look at her. "You... I... you make me remember Mum... I never...," he closed his eyes tightly, and Syrena tightened her grip on his hand, trying to reassure him. His eyelids parted to reveal the shine of unshed tears, and he continued, "She... she loved me no matter what, and I think she loved Da, too." His voice wavered when he mentioned his father, and Syrena nodded in understanding though she had no idea what was coming.
"The last day I spent with her was at the beach. We...," despite it all a smile broke through for a split second. "We had a wonderful time. I... I was seven. She was beautiful, radiant... amazing. We walked for hours that day, up and down the beach endlessly. Mum always looked out for me, you know? I... I felt like I was... important... to her, at least. That day, I can't forget it... it's all I've got left. She bought this," shifting his weight, he drew his wallet from a deep pocket and, without releasing Syrena's hand, pulled out a battered black and white photograph. The wallet fell down between his legs, unnoticed, and he held the photo tightly yet carefully between his fingers. He took a deep breath and expelled it in a heavy sigh, holding the photo so Syrena could see. "She made me hide it from Da... it was our secret, to show that the fun we'd had that day was real. The day was something that Da couldn't take from us... but... he...," his anger rose to the surface, and he fought it, tucking the photograph carefully into the inside pocket of his jacket and grinding his teeth together. "Fuckin' bastard," he hissed. "We got home, and Mum made me go in my room and close the door. Da was raging that day, pissed out of his mind, and I heard it. I fucking heard...." At that he lost the battle against the anger and the memories; the tears broke through the floodgate, he pressed his forehead to his knees and sobbed.
Syrena sat stupefied, unsure even of how to speak much less of the words to say, at his side, her hand still clutched in his. At length, Hando's sobs subsided, he lifted his forehead from his knees and raised her hand to his lips to hold it there. His eyes remained downcast, bloodshot and worn, and his cheeks had grown flushed with the salt of his tears. With her free hand she reached up to wipe the moisture from his face, running her fingers tenderly over his skin for a moment before he caught her hand in his and brought it, too, to his lips. She could feel the heat of his faltering breath against her palms, and her heart clenched almost painfully in her chest. The wind had grown colder, kicking up whitecaps far beyond the breakers, and the black clouds were closer to the shore. A jagged arrow of lightening broke from the base of the clouds to crack in the sea, and a peal of thunder rolled over them, echoing against the western mountains.
"He murdered her," he whispered against her hands. "He... I... I fucking hate him... more than any bloody gook. He... the bastard fucking beat her to death there in the living room. I... I heard him leave. I thought it was safe. She... there was blood everywhere. I didn't know what to do. I was seven fucking years old," his voice barely crept above a hiss, the anger and pain boiling just below the surface. Syrena gazed at him, her heart in her throat choking back any words she might have found on her tongue, tears of empathy welling up in her eyes. He took a deep breath, releasing it into her hands, and continued. "He beat me later, the next day, and I thought... no, I hoped I would die. But I didn't... I... I couldn't die." He raised his eyes for a moment to the darkening sky, "Why couldn't I die, Mum? He left after that... they took him. Every night I prayed... prayed to a deaf god... fucking deaf ears that couldn't hear me, couldn't save Mum. I prayed for him to die, too."
"They sent me to a... a fucking orphanage. All I did was hate... hate him, hate myself, hate every fucking body in the world for what happened. I still hate the bloody bastard, and he's fucking worm food," he growled. "Davey was the only one, my best mate... we were at the same school, and we raised all sorts of hell. I miss...," his voice hitched again, the sobs returning. "My whole life, every god damn day, I miss my mum. And nobody fucking cares...."
"Shh, Hando, that's not true. I care, I care," Syrena whispered, pressing her forehead to his temple, breathing the words into his ear.
He turned to face her, his eyes red-rimmed, the tears still flowing down his cheeks, released her hands and threw his arms around her to bury his face in her shoulder. She held him close, rubbing her hands up and down his heaving back as he wept. Between halting breaths his voice cracked, and the whispered words rose to her ear, "Except you, Sy, except you."
Time flowed by like the tide and the black clouds passed over the sun as it dipped further down in the west. The sky became the colour of blood, and Hando's sobs faded as he drifted into a dreamless sleep atop the monolith. Syrena held him for what seemed like hours as the storm fast approached. The waves crashed wildly against the base of the rock, driven inland by the force of the tempest, and sheets of rain made their way toward the land, creeping across the horizon and overcoming the rays of sunlight. A murky darkness descended, stretching from horizon to horizon, and the scent of rain driven on the wind surrounded them.
With the first fat drops of rain Hando awoke. He took a deep breath, regathering his spent strength, and pushed himself away from her shoulder to look her in the eyes. He found himself smiling at what he found there--the unconditional care that had been missing in his life for so many years--and he pressed his lips to hers gently, a gesture of gratitude and burgeoning affection. She didn't pull away, and he didn't press to deepen the kiss. Hando leaned back, feeling a twinge in his back from sitting on the solid rock for so long, and looked at the sky above them, black and menacing. "Um.. Sy?"
"Yeah?" He gestured toward the edge of the rock, indicating wordlessly that they should climb down before it got too dark to see. "Right," Syrena agreed, and they both stood slowly, shaking out stiff muscles. "Just the same as the way up, only in reverse. Always keep at least one secure handhold. I'll go first--if you slip, give me a split second warning so I can anchor a bit." He looked at her with wide eyes--Does she mean she'd try to catch me?--and she smiled warmly at him, stepping forward to kiss his cheek. "We'll talk more when we get down," she whispered into his ear before turning to begin the descent. The going was slow, the darkness having fallen quickly once the sun began to set behind the clouds. By the time they were halfway down the face of the rock, the rain had begun with a vengeance, pelting them sharply with icy cold drops that numbed his fingers.
Years of weather had beaten relentlessly on this monolith, wearing it smoother near the bottom where the tides reached from time to time, and his cold fingers slipped frequently. They had nearly reached the bottom when his boot slithered off a foothold. His handhold remained stable for a second before his fingers, too, slid from the security of the rock and he found himself suspended in midair, then falling. He tried to hold back the exclamation of fear, but it escaped his lips as he slid, flailing for a handhold, not feeling the rock tear the flesh of his hands, down the rock face. Suddenly, as he was giving up all hope, he felt a hand reach out and grab his wrist--the pain that shot up his arm was deadened by adrenaline. Syrena cried out in pain. In the dim light he could see her grit her teeth together for a second as she growled, "Find a foothold." What seemed like an eternity passed before his boot made contact with a ledge of rock, and he pressed himself against its solid comfort, breathing heavily. "Got it?" she asked. He pushed his weight up, easing the tension on his arm, and Syrena released him. "Ok, just a few more feet to go," she urged.
After a long hot shower and a change of clothes, Bud had tried sleeping, however it had quickly proven useless, his mind restless as it mulled over the events of the night before. Now, he paced his room, unsure as to whether to venture back down below. The warning words of John and Tina, and later Syrena, lingered in the back of his mind. Even more so were the haunting images of Michelle, her fall from the balcony and her look of disgust later at the top of the stairs; all made him hesitant. Best to lay low for a while until things cool down, he told himself. He ran a finger over the tender wound on his chin, grimacing as it radiated with pain.
"Nothin' compared to what 'Chelle's gone through, White... just remember that." He crossed the room with a sigh, opening the mini wet bar he had against the wall. The thought of more liquor repelled him, so he reached for a bottle of water, taking a long drink as its' coolness coated his dry throat.
Not knowing what else to do, Bud lay once more down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. No matter how hard he fought them, his thoughts always wandered back to Michelle and he found himself smiling as he thought of the first time he had been introduced to her.
It had been her first day at the Crowe's Nest, and he had been expecting her. When John had finally brought her around to the Tavern and introduced them to each other, they had sat and talked for hours about everything under the sun. It had been "L.A. Confidential", she had said to him, that had first drawn her to Russell Crowe, although she had admitted with a quiet laugh that she had first seen him a couple of years before as Sid in "Virtuosity". During those first couple of weeks, the two of them were practically inseparable. Yet, deep down inside, Bud White had known that she wasn't his. While he had been the one to bring her to the Nest, she belonged to another... she had belonged to Colin. While "L.A Confidential" had been the film to draw her to Russell Crowe, it had been Colin and "Heaven's Burning" that had captured her heart.
Bud cursed himself as he thought of the trouble he has caused last night. He'd had too much to drink and hazy memories and old hopes and dreams had flooded his thoughts, spilling out into action. And his actions had nearly gotten Michelle killed.
Feeling suddenly tired, he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths as he felt himself finally drifting off to sleep. He'd have to apologize, this he knew for certain, to both Michelle and Colin. But not now, not tonight. Tonight he'd stay out of harm's way and hope that in the morning things would be back to normal.
With Jeff's help, Michelle finished off the tray of breakfast food -- nibbling on a slice of toast and an orange, while Jeff finally agreed to tackle the rest. When they were done, he willingly escorted her to the front door of the Hotel.
"You sure about this, Chelle? You don't want me to walk down there with you?"
"No thanks, Jeff..." Michelle replied, meekly at first, but her voice grew stronger as she glanced towards the Tavern. "You've got things to do here and I've got to get out sometime. I can't stay cooped up in my room all day." A worried expression crossed Jeff's face, but she continued. "Besides, I... I want to make sure that he's okay... after last night, y'know?"
Jeffrey continued to look at her, concern on his face and Michelle reached out, punching him gently in the arm. "Stop fretting over me, Jeff. I'm a big girl, everything's fine. We've both had a chance to sleep things off... And I just want to see him, make sure that the bastard is doing alright.... that he's standing on two feet." Michelle chuckled softly at her words, but it quickly faded as images of an angry, drunken Colin filled her head. Jeff narrowed his eyes and glanced away. When he turned back to face her, his apprehension was even more evident. But he leaned in and gave her a gentle peck on the cheek. "Just don't be too hard on him, Chelle... or too hard on yourself. You've been through a lot...." She nodded slowly. "It'll be fine, Jeff." He smiled softly and Michelle watched as he retreated inside the Hotel, leaving her standing alone on the front porch. Eventually she turned, her feet moving automatically, willing her towards the Tavern. But something didn't feel right. Maybe this was all too soon... maybe...
Michelle stared at the large structure just ahead of her. The Tavern seemed suddenly ominous, ready to swallow her up as soon as she set foot on its' wooden planks. She found her breath catching within her throat and she forced herself to take several slow deep breaths. Yet with every step her confidence continued to fade, only to be replaced by uncertainty and fear. What if he tells me he never wants to see me again? And after the way I treated him last night, I wouldn't blame him if he did. The thought stumbled into her mind and her heart sunk within her chest, her footsteps slowing as she looked up towards the door.
You don't trust me... scared that Bud is going to take me... scared that I'd die... you'd be left alone. You'd have me replaced within the month!! The angry words flooded through her again and again. There's nothing to talk about... She closed her eyes, trying desperately to push the thoughts from her mind. Just find him and talk to him... but the words pushed to the surface. There's nothing to talk about... it's over.
Michelle tripped, catching herself on the railing of the Tavern, her eyes brimming with tears. This was a mistake, she thought; it had been a mistake to come down so soon. Colin's tear-streaked face flashed before her eyes and she heard his repeated cries of love and, once more, her harsh words of rejection.
"Chelle?" A voice interrupted her tears, its' Australian lilt causing her heart to skip a beat as she envisioned Colin approaching her. She wiped angrily at her tears, before glancing up to see young Johnny coming towards her. "You alright?" He rested a hand on her shoulder, steadying her as she gave him a shaky nod. "C'mon inside, then... Everyone's been worried about ya. They'll be glad to see you up and around."
"I... no, thanks Johnny. I'm gonna head back to the Hotel... I need..." "No way, Chelle. Ya just came there." He smiled sweetly at her, the concern etched on his face matching that which she had seen on Jeff Mitchell only a few moments earlier. He reached out his hand, offering it to her. "C'mon Chelle. We'll sit ya down with a tall mug... something good for just a day like this... One of your favorites I think. " His smile grew wider and he raised an eyebrow. "Mulled apple cider, with a spot of brandy." Michelle couldn't help but smile at his remembrance. But while she gave him a wary gaze, his blue eyes held hers. "I won't leave your side.... God's truth." He held his hand over his heart, grinning at her and Michelle felt her confidence slowly returning, as she wiped away any remaining tears from her eyes.
"Alright..." She nodded finally, letting him take her hand.
"There ya go..." Johnny beamed as he lead her up the stairs and into the Tavern.
Johnny gave her a reassuring smile as he walked her through the main doors, directing her to one of the several free booths nearby. Michelle gave a quick glance around the bar, noticing that things seemed unusually quiet for this time of day. The patrons there looked up from their conversation, stopping with their drinks half way to their mouths. Michelle bowed her head, feeling her confidence disappearing once again.
"I'll be back in two ticks, Chelle." Johnny patted her hand after she had carefully seated herself at the booth, bracing herself against the table as her bruised body made contact with the cushioned bench. She kept her eyes low, her hands fidgeting nervously. She could sense the conversation around the Tavern picking up again, but knew that everyone was watching her. No doubt, word of last night's troubles had filtered their way through the Nest, and everyone knew of the initial altercation between Colin and Bud, and her resulting fall off the upper balcony. She took a deep breath and glanced up to see Johnny returning with a steaming cup of mulled apple cider.
"Thank you, Johnny." She managed a smile. Johnny sensed her discomfort, noticing how she had positioned herself in the corner of the booth, tucked as far away as possible from preying eyes.
"Pay them no mind, Chelle," Johnny whispered to her as he set the cup in front of her. "They're just curious.... I don't think there's ever been so much of a ruckus around the Nest before." He shook his head slowly, seating himself across from her. Michelle frowned behind her mug as she took a careful sip of the steaming liquid.
"It was only a fall, Johnny... I'll live... and Colin and Bud..." she closed her eyes at the memory. "They were just drunk and stupid." The words came out of her mouth like a long sigh and she took a lengthy sip, feeling the hot drink warm her insides.
Johnny stared at her, his eyes widening... "You mean..." His mouth hung open before he covered it with his hand. "Ah shit, Chelle... I'm sorry love... I thought you knew." It was Michelle's turn to stare, not understanding what he meant.
"Knew what, Johnny?"
"Ah bloody hell.. ah..." he stammered. "Chelle... there's been....ah, how do I say this...there's been..." A movement to the side distracted them both and they looked up to see John Biebe approaching from the bar.
"Mind if I interrupt for a bit, Johnny...." Biebe's eyes held hers, without a glance in young Johnny's direction. "I need to talk to Michelle for a few minutes."
"Sure John..." The young man nodded and slid out of the booth, allowing Biebe to take his place. Johnny glanced down at Michelle, smiling awkwardly as he stuffed his hands in his pocket. "I'll see ya around, Chelle." She watched him turn, hurrying away to the bar where Lachlan gave him a curious look, to which Johnny only shook his head.
A frown creased Michelle's forehead and she stared back down into her drink, wrapping her fingers around the warm mug. John slid slowly into the seat across from her, giving her a quiet nod. She glanced up at him quickly, noticing immediately the sadness that creased his face. He let out a long breath as his eyes held hers.
"You look like I feel, John," Michelle spoke lightly and John smiled slightly.
"And how are you feeling, Chelle?" John's eyes seemed greener than normal, sadder somehow, Michelle thought before she spoke again.
"Like I've been telling everyone, John... I'll live."
Her reply caused John to frown and Michelle grimaced, knowing the seriousness of all that had happened last night. "I'm sorry, John." She took a deep breath and tried again. "I hurt like hell... I don't want to be here. I don't want to be the talk of the town... not like this. I want to crawl back into bed and hide under the covers, wishing that yesterday never happened. " She paused, taking another breath. "And... I want to find Colin and tell him I'm sorry for all the awful things I said to him and then I want to make mad, passionate love to him" She shrugged, shaking her head. "I can't decide which one I want to do more." She glanced up from her drink. "But enough about me... I've been thinking about myself all morning, and frankly, I'm sick and tired of it all.... How about you John? You look a little under the weather this afternoon."
John looked away briefly, scratching his beard. His face paled as he spoke. "I could be coming down with something, I suppose." He shrugged as if trying to lift a weight off his broad shoulders and rubbed his arms absently. "I've been getting chills lately." He hesitated, as if another sentence was forming on the tip of his tongue and Michelle waited, taking another sip of her cider. When he didn't speak after a minute, she reached out across the table and took his hand in hers, feeling its' coolness against her warm skin. "What's up, John? You're definitely not yourself today.
John lowered his head, his voice coming out in a low whisper. "Tina and I... we had a fight earlier today." Michelle's eyes widened, and then she smiled softly.
"Aw John... I'm sure everything will be fine," but he shook his head.
"I really screwed up this time, Chelle." He pulled his hand away from hers and ran it through his long hair, pulling it back from his face. Taking a deep breath, his eyes met hers, a desperate, almost haunted look in them. "I screwed up and..." The haunted look changed suddenly and a flash of hope crossed his face. "And I've been thinking about how to make things right, you know...." He licked his lips and Michelle noticed his cheeks flush slightly. "I was wondering... um... I know this may be bad time and all. But, I was wondering if you'd be willing to teach me how to dance. I want to plan a night for Tina, and she loves to dance... " He took her hand in his again, a pleading look in his green eyes and then he turned away slightly. "Of course, I'd understand if...
"John..." Michelle squeezed his hand, and he looked back at her. "I'd be happy to... That's very sweet. And Tina will be absolutely thrilled. I'd love to give you a few dance lessons." John's face brightened as she agreed to his request.
"Aw man, Chelle." He stood up, leaning across the table as he planted a kiss on her cheek. "You're an angel... It's gonna be something special..." He settled quickly back in his seat, his demeanor lighter than before.
"I'm sure it will..." Michelle started, and then noticed that John's attention was suddenly drawn towards the main doors of the Tavern. The room had fallen into stillness again, and Michelle's heart leapt into her throat as she envisioned Colin standing behind her in the doorway. She looked at John for clues, but his eyes only narrowed slightly as he surveyed the room.
Michelle turned slowly, bracing herself with that possibility that she could be coming face to face with Colin. She breathed an outward sigh of relief when she saw it was East and Cort saddling up to the bar. At second glance, she frowned in confusion as she took in their drenched and muddy appearance, noting that they were dripping all over the Tavern floor as they crossed the room.
"What in God's green earth do you blokes think you're doin'?! Tracking mud in like this?!" Lachlan waved his arms at them as he stepped out from behind the counter. "Liz'll have my head when she sees all these bloody puddles!!"
"Ah relax, mate!" East raised his arms in mock surrender, a smile crossing his face as he mused at Lachlan's outburst. Cort leaned against the bar, winking at East.
"Yeah, c'mon Lach... we need a good stiff drink. I say we deserve a free one this time round... We've been saving the Nest from extinction while all these lazy bums have been sitting around catchin' up on the latest gossip."
East chuckled softly. "Yeah... and it was a close call too. The mud had sucked up Colin's car like a bloody vice. It didn't want to let the thing go..."
"And hell..." Cort interrupted, "Colin's lucky to be alive! You should see his car! He must have been flying when that train hit him!" Cort smacked his hands together, mimicking the impact of the accident as he spoke. East shook his head, agreeing with Cort.
"Bloody lucky, mate. You oughta see the piece of sh...." East had turned slowly away from the bar, glancing around the room as he spoke, enjoying the audience that they seemed to have gathered as everyone held their breath. Suddenly his eyes found Michelle and the smile dropped off his face. "...it... Aw Chelle... Shit... I'm sorry, we..." As he stumbled over his words, Michelle was on her feet and running towards the door.
Even before Hando had reached the nadir of his fall, Syrena could feel the fibres in her shoulder giving way, and her fingers strained to maintain their tenuous hold on the rock wall. He swung behind her, and her arm twisted painfully with his weight before he came to rest against the rock face. She looked down at him, feeling her fingers beginning to fail in their grip both on the handhold and around his wrist, and she grimaced, forcing the words out, "Find a foodhold." Within moments the weight was lifted from her shoulder, and she leaned against the cool rock, pressing her face against its roughness and trying to overcome the pain that radiated through her body from her shoulder. She closed her eyes, feeling the cold sting of raindrops against her hand and face, and concentrated on breathing evenly, driving the pain from her mind. Won't do me any good to go into shock now, here. I've got to get down... just a few more feet to go, she told herself silently.
She held her arm close to her body, trying not to jar it, and urged him to climb the rest of the way down. She heard the splash of his boots as he landed in the flowing tide at the base of the monolith, and she took small comfort in the knowledge that he was safely down. Lingering there, pressed against the cool surface of the monolith, she yet fought to prevail over the stabbing ache in her shoulder. The tips of her fingers tingled, nerve endings alive with endorphins, and she shifted minutely only to renew the agony of dislocation. Her head spun, her vision blurred, and she took a deep cleansing breath, resting her forehead against the dark rock face and relishing the gelid stone on her skin. The stabbing pain segued into a steadily throbbing ache, replaced by an uncontrollable tremor as the stretched muscles began to react to their awkward positions. I've got to get down now or I'll never make it. One step at a time, Sy, one step at a time, she chanted silently, smiling against the elements as Bill Murray* popped into her head unbidden.
Her progress was exceedingly slow as she found a foothold about a foot below her current one, stabilized herself then brought her good hand down to a lower handhold. The pain came in waves as she moved slowly but steadily down the rock face. She didn't look down to measure her headway toward the base. Time ceased to pass but for the pounding of her heart in her chest and the occasional twinge of intense pain through her shoulder and back. When her feet came to rest on the sand, a wave of relief washed through her, and Hando stepped forward with his hands extended as if to take her into his arms. "NO!" she cried, a little more forcefully than she expected, but it was effective. Hando cringed away from her as though she'd been on fire, and she slowly turned to look at him. "Sorry," she felt the need to apologize upon seeing the injured expression in his eyes.
"Are you okay?" his voice was burdened with concern for her.
"Yeah, in a manner of speaking," she grinned, grinding her teeth together and canted her head to one side with a slight grimace.
"You're not okay, Sy."
"Whatever you say, dear," she said mockingly, her voice almost a growl between clenched teeth. The waves washed over her boots, and she staggered slightly as she walked up the beach toward the blanket. Hando followed her closely, hovering at her side, and she knew he was concerned. She could feel the flush in her cheeks from the strain of beating the pain, and she was sure that the sweat on her brow was visible between the rivulets of rain that were now running down her face.
"I'm sorry, Sy," his voice took on a pleading quality, blaming himself for her obvious pain.
"Not your fault, hon." Her knees trembled as she lowered herself gently to a kneeling position on the edge of the blanket. "Fuck this hurts," she grumbled, cradling her arm against her chest. Hando was suddenly on his knees before her, peering inquiringly into her eyes.
"Sy? What can I do? Can I help? Shit, I'm so sorry, Sy."
"Hando, you're babbling. Hold on a tick, will ya?" She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, trying not to imagine the pain that was to come. Her head swam, spinning like a maelstrom, and she felt its pull into darkness. Not yet, I can't pass out yet. Shit, shit, "Shit, not yet," her thoughts escaped her tongue, and she raised her eyes to Hando's. "Ok, I'm going to need your help here." She raised her free hand tentatively to her shoulder and ran her fingers along her collar bone, feeling the pain radiating. "I've dislocated my shoulder, Hando. We need to immobilize it, and I...," she drew her breath in through her teeth and her eyes glazed over for a moment. "Shit, Hando, it hurts like a knife. Get my jacket, and help me tie it around so it holds my arm...," her voice trailed off in a hiss.
"Bloody hell, Sy, I'm so sorry." He reached to untie the jacket from around her waist, moving quickly yet tenderly, berating himself under his breath, "Hando, you bloody idiot. Look what you've done, gone and fucked everything up. Shit."
"Enough, Hando. It's not your fault, ok?" She winced painfully as his hand brushed her elbow, drawing her breath in through her teeth. "Could've just let you fall, eh? My choice, my pain, my problem, ok?" He nodded shamefully, freeing the jacket and holding it up with a puzzled expression. "Right... take the...," deep breaths, Sy, "... one of the sleeves and set it around my...," damn, is this going to work? "... the back of my neck. I'll take it from there." She watched him with blurred vision as he carefully draped the sleeve of the jacket over her shoulders and laid the cuff lightly on her injured shoulder, and she had to smile at the tenderness of his movements.
He sat back on his heels, peering at her with widened eyes filled with worry. "Can I get anything else?"
"Nah, just give me a second here...," she moved methodically, arranging the body of the jacket across her chest and underneath her elbow. "Damn, this isn't going to immobilize it much. Here, take the other sleeve and tie them together behind my back." He moved to kneel behind her and tied the sleeves loosely together. "No, Hando, you've got to tie it...," she winced in preparation, "as tight as you can. It'll hurt, but get it tight."
"But...."
"Just do it," she hissed, and he did. The pain shot down her arm to her fingertips, bounced back and ran straight up her neck, and the world became dark as she collapsed backwards against Hando's kneeling form.
"Chelle!!" John called after her, but she ignored him, staggering blindly through the doors, fresh tears streaming down her face. She tripped, catching herself on the ridges in the wooden planks of the porch and she fell to her knees at the top of the steps. Yelling, she pushed herself to her feet, paying no attention to the sounds of the others as they filtered out onto the porch behind her. She forced herself down the stairs, her eyes glued to the scene before her.
Cort and East had left Johnny's truck parked directly in front of the Tavern, it's usually clean blue exterior now covered with a splash of mud and debris. Her gaze followed the line of the truck and her steps fumbled when she saw the hunk of metal attached to the truck's winch. Colin's fire red Chevelle was completely unrecognizable under a thick layer of drying mud; crushed and gnarled at the edges, windows cracked or shattered, the inside a messy pool of water and silt.
Visions of the accident flashed through her mind, Colin's hands gripping the wheel as the train smashed into him, his body being tossed about the interior of the car. His bleeding body flying through the air... or thrashing wildly as the water sucked him under, filling his lungs. Michelle fell to her knees again, her heart pounding within her chest as her lungs gasped for air.
"Why..." She heard herself cry out. A strong arm wrapped itself around her shoulder and she glanced up to see John kneeling beside her. She shook her head, once more pushing herself off her knees.
"Chelle..." John reached for her, trying to offer her comfort.
"No John..." Her tear-filled eyes stared back at him. "How could he do this? Why?" But she knew why, and her heart burrowed itself into her stomach. "Where is he?" The words came out of her mouth like a quiet hiss between her teeth.
"Chelle... I..."
"Where is he?!" She practically yelled at him and John lowered his head before pointing towards the Tavern. Without a word, Michelle turned, leaving John standing at the bottom of the steps. She pushed her way through the gathering crowd, ignoring the looks of sympathy and shock on their faces as she forced her way back inside. She moved towards the stairs, her mind focused on barreling into Colin's upstairs bedroom. She clenched her teeth against the pain that pulsed through her body, her sore muscles still protesting as she took each stride. A sound to her left caught her ear and she glanced over with a glare before she saw that it was Jeffrey Wigand and Maximus leaving the fireside room, closing the door behind them. She knew immediately that Colin was behind that door and she turned towards them, ignoring them as she pushed between them in an attempt to get to the door.
"Michelle.... Wait." Maximus gripped her upper arm, slowing her. "It's best if you let him rest."
"Let me go Max, I'm not in the mood."
Max was taken aback by the anger that flashed through her eyes, but his grip on her arm held fast. He gave a confused glance towards the door where he noticed a mud-clad East and he understood immediately, as did Jeffrey Wigand.
"I've already spoken with him, Michelle." Jeffrey spoke quietly, trying to let his voice calm her. But Michelle shook her head, pulling against Maximus' hand as she tried to set herself free.
"Let me go, Max!" She glared at him through her tears. He breathed a heavy sigh and released her slowly. Michelle lowered her gaze, trying desperately to control her breath and her shaking hands. Jeffrey watched her, recognizing the anger and fear that were welling up within her.
"Chelle?" Jeffrey leaned towards her, touching her arm softly as he did so. She flinched from his touch and turned towards the door. "Chelle, please listen... just don't do anything you will regret..."
Michelle closed her eyes, fighting back the tears, a sob escaping her lips. "It's too late Jeffrey... It's already to late for that." Without glancing back, she reached for the doorknob, pushing the wooden door open as she slipped inside the room.
The fireside room was dark, the curtains closed against the afternoon sunlight and the only illumination was from the fire which cast an ominous flickering of shadows across the room. It took several moments for Michelle's eyes to adjust to the darkness and within those few seconds she was flushed with embarrassment and humiliation. It was obvious to her now, that everyone had known of Colin's accident and she was certain that it was that they had been whispering about in their booths. No one had said a word to her, not even Jeff Mitchell or John in their kind, protective fashion. But not it was like she was reliving the public humiliation of the night before, only this time she was conscious enough to witness every agonizing moment of it. Coming down here *was* a mistake.
Michelle swallowed hard as she tried to suppress the sobs that threatened to well out of her chest. Blinking away tears she spotted Colin sitting on the sofa, bathed in the orange glow of the flames and she stepped towards him, crying softly. "How could you do this?!"
At the sound of her voice, Colin turned in his seat, a grimace crossing his face as he did so. His eyes widened at the sight of her and he turned away suddenly, hiding his face in the shadows. She approached him, tears flowing freely down her cheeks now. "What the fuck were you thinking, Colin?"
Colin didn't look up at her... he couldn't look up at her. His head bowed, he stared at his bandaged hands, feeling the shame and anger building within him. Bloody foolish... how could I have been such an idiot. He berated himself as heard her voice quiver with fear. It might have been better to let the pond swallow you... A shudder passed through his body as he thought of the water sucking him down into the mud. At least then, Colin's eyes narrowed and he sighed heavily, then Chelle wouldn't have to look at your pathetic face anymore. Michelle stared at him, her breath coming in gasps as she was racked with opposing feelings of anger and regret, and then overwhelming love and sadness. She waited for him to reply, wanting him to move, wanting him to plead with her like he had done the night before. She would have given anything to be wrapped in his arms again. But he just sat there, his eyes avoiding hers and his jaw clenched tightly, tears threatening to flow. It was in that instant that she realized the full extent of his injuries; the gash above his knee, the deep cut above his eye, and then a quiet cry escaped her lips as she saw his hands. Her stomach turned and she found herself on her knees beside him. I was supposed to protect these hands.... She couldn't pull her eyes away from his wounded fingers.
"Colin... why?" The words came off her lips as a quiet sob and she reached for his hand, holding it carefully between her fingers as she glanced up into Colin's face. His eyes sparkling with tears as he met her gaze. There was a look of longing and pain in them and then it was suddenly gone, replaced with a flash of anger that startled her.
"Why?!" Colin turned the question back at her, "Why do you think?" The sudden hard tone in his usually soft-spoken voice making her breath catch in her throat. He drew his hand away from hers and stared at the flames of the fire.
"Colin..." Michelle shook her head slowly, "I don't understand... why'd you..."
"Aw, c'mon Chelle!" His voice cracked with emotion and he waved his arm, shooing her away as he covered his head. The pain from his injuries was overwhelming and Colin hissed between his teeth as he tried to place his thoughts. "You know why..." He lifted his head to look at her, his eyes connecting once more with hers. "I've seen the way Bud White still looks at you..." The words caught in his throat, "I know you and him were together before..." His voice dropped to a whisper as pain surged through his body, "Don't try and tell me that there still isn't something there... It would have been better if I'd drown..."
"Colin... don't... oh God no... don't say that..." Michelle stammered, trying desperately to think of something, "What happened between Bud and I was a long time ago... and nothing *did* happen... Bud and I both knew it wasn't meant... Bud never..."
"Fuck Bud White!" Colin hissed at her, and Michelle fell silent, "I swear... I'm going to rip his heart out when I see him... I swear to God..." Colin held his head in his hands, his lungs gasping for air as he tried uselessly to control his raging emotions.
"Colin..." Michelle spoke finally, her eyes narrowing. She stood up slowly, wincing as her back complained bitterly. Her voice came out between clenched teeth. "Don't you dare drag Bud into this any more. This is between me and you. Besides...." She paused as she glanced down at him, "if you'd take a second to notice... I'm not *with* Bud White right now, am I?! I'm here with you." Colin moaned under his breath, his chest tightening as a sob welled up within him. She's right, you bloody sod... look into those beautiful blues of hers and see that she's right... "I'm here with you, because *you* decided to have a run in with a freakin' train!!" She paused hoping for some kind of a reaction. "Do you realize what could have happened if you'd been killed?! You... you could have ruined everything. This place would have never been the same!!"
Colin stood up suddenly, his muscles crying out in protest as he did so. He gritted his teeth and turned to face Michelle. Anger welled up within him -- anger at himself for begin so foolish, anger at his body for the pain it was steadily doling out, anger for the hurt that he saw in her eyes -- hurt that he had been the sole cause of -- and he felt powerless against all of it. "Don't change the fuckin' subject, Chelle!" He swayed slightly, flashing her a look. 'I've already gotten a lecture from the resident old man... I don't need one, nor do I want one, from you...." He pointed a bandaged hand at her. "Don't even start...."
She stared at him, stunned into momentary silence as his angry words hit her one by one. He had never spoken to her like this before. The usually soft-spoken Australian was now shaking with anger, clenching his teeth as he yelled at her. "Obviously..." She began, desperately fighting the anguish she was feeling, "obviously you weren't listening the first time!!" She started yelling back at him. "Just like you weren't listening when I told you again and again that there is nothing happening with Bud White!"
"Don't play games with me, Michelle..." The words came out like a hiss between his clenched teeth and her mouth dropped open. She reached out before she even had time to think, and flesh met flesh as the palm of her right hand hit his cheek. Colin's eyes widened as she struck him and he staggered backwards from the force of the blow.
"You are the one who is treating this like a game, Colin!" Michelle shook before him, her blue eyes flaming through her tears. "Gambling away your very own existence, not to mention everyone else's as well!! You are so bloody selfish! What were you think when that train plowed into you? When you crawled out of that pond... You were thinking about yourself! Not the Nest, not me... not anyone but yourself!"
Michelle berated him and all Colin could do was stand there staring at her, feeling the remnant heat of her touch against his left cheek. His mind flooded with memories of her once gentle fingers as they would run over his face. Pain wrenched through his chest as he suddenly realized the damage he done and his heart pounded, intensifying the heat he felt in his cheek. All he had truly wanted was to have her near him, but now he had just driven her further away. He turned away from her, closing his eyes, his thoughts filling with the recent memory of crawling out of the pond, falling to the ground, and crying out Michelle's name as he lay in the grass awaiting his fate.
"Chelle..." He whispered her name as he opened his eyes to focus on the fire, the glow of the flames flashing in his tear-filled eyes.
"Don't Colin..." She raised up her arms, "You can do what you bloody well like. Cause I don't give a damn." She swung around and walked quickly out the door, slamming it behind her. Colin winced as the sound of the door, feeling it deep in his gut, almost as if a door had slammed shut in his heart. He leaned against the mantel of the fireplace, sobs erupting from him as he realized all of what he had just done.
