Art of the Dark ~ Chapter 11

RJ pulls up to the curb and shuts off the car, taking a moment to just breathe in and out a few times. God, what a fuckin' day, he thinks, as he flexes his right hand, still a little sore from punching Todd upside the head...from slapping some sense into him. RJ inhales and exhales a few more times, deep, cleansing breaths...then he sniffs, grabbing his phone and getting out of the car. As he adjusts his jacket, he looks the area up and down, more out of habit than anything else. It wasn't like this kid lived in a high-crime neighborhood...but still...one could never be too careful.

He sighs, as he takes long, cool strides around to the back door of a lovely, upper middle class house. Do I knock? he wonders, not knowing if his hired geek's parents are home. He debates for a few seconds, then raises a hand to knock...

...when the door suddenly opens. RJ sighs again, dropping his raised fist as he looks upon the kid...tall, skinny, young and very white...but still, he wears super-baggy jeans and a Lakers jersey over his white t-shirt. The kid raises his hand up high, as if for a friendly shake.

"Whas'up, fool?" he says, with a dorky smile.

RJ rolls his eyes, and the kid immediately drops his arm. "Sorry," he says, meekly. A few awkward seconds pass...then RJ shoots him an impatient glare.

"You called?"

"Oh, yeah...c'mon in," he replies, stepping aside. RJ cocks an eyebrow...and the kid laughs.

"Don't worry, man. Nobody's here but me."

"For how long?"

"My folks are in fuckin' Tahiti, man...they won't be back for three weeks."

RJ makes an mock-impressed 'oh' with his lips, then steps in. He looks around at the tidy kitchen, as the kid shuts the door.

"Want a beer or somethin'?"

RJ gives him another exasperated look...but takes another deep breath before speaking.

"No, thanks. Can we just..." he starts, gesturing to get on with it. The kid nods, then leads him down to the basement. The place changes instantly...from a sunlight-blown, upper-crusty décor to a typical hacker cave, lit only by the glow of two huge flat-screen monitors. RJ takes in the sheer amount of equipment this kid has to play with, boxy contraptions piled on top of one another, connected by miles of wire. The kid sits down in the middle of it all, swinging around in his cushy chair to face the screen.

"Right...lemme just pull this up," he says, more official and confident, now that he's back in his domain. RJ watches as various windows pop up on the screen. Then suddenly, audio blasts from the speakers...Tea's voice...

"They're fine - they're both fine and they're both actually sleeping at the same time."

RJ softens at that...he just has to. Tea had the most comforting voice...so sweet and gentle. It occurs to him just how long it's been since he's heard her voice, seen her face; and he feels a sudden pang of loss at that, noticing her absence, as he watches the waveform on the screen, drawing her every word.

"And I couldn't be happier." Dean's voice replies...and RJ's face darkens again. He hears Tea breathe hard, and can almost picture her...her big eyes wide with shock. The audio stops just then, and the kid turns to look at RJ.

"Okay, so...I worked the shit outta this thing. Pretty noisy, typical city stuff...he's definitely on a pay phone."

RJ rolls his eyes at that. "Well, I figured THAT out for myself. You mean to tell me you dragged me all the way over here for THAT?"

The kid does a slight take. "Noooo," he says, as if to say 'duh.' "God...how lame do you think I am?"

"You don't really want me to answer that, do you?"

The kid cracks up...then, with a smug grin, he hits a few more keys and clicks his mouse a few more times.

"Just listen," he says, as he starts the audio again, louder and noisier this time. RJ hears the background much clearer now, and his eyes widen as he starts to imagine the place in his head.

"Yeah, that's more like it..." he whispers. "...tell me where you are, man."

"Y'know...the police are looking for you - this phone might be tapped."

"Eh, let 'em...it's not like they're gonna find me anyhow."

A pause...RJ and the kid both listen closely, as the background noises fly by...traffic...footsteps...and other voices. The kid keeps clicking and typing, manipulating the audio to raise the background volume even more.

"Hear those voices?"

"Yeah..." RJ says, furrowing his brow...hearing the people that were talking as they passed Shelton by.

"What do you want?" Tea's voice whispers.

"I don't know. Just to hear that you're okay, I guess."

Another pause...more miscellaneous voices, clearer, more boisterous. RJ's eyes get really wide...and he looks at the kid, who grins from ear to ear as he stops the audio again.

"My guess is England. London, probably."

"You sure?" RJ asks, though in his gut, it already feels right. The kid nods.

"I'd bet money on it. I spent a year over there with my folks. I could make out the accent on the other people earlier on, but it wasn't as clear. THAT definitely was, though. Those were ENGLISH babes walking by, dude."

RJ grins at that, nodding. "Alright," he says, taking an envelope out of his jacket and handing it to him. The kid opens it and flips through the bills with that dorky smile.

"Sweet...always a pleasure, Mr. Gannon, sir," he replies, holding out his hand again. RJ looks at him strangely, but shakes his hand anyway.

"Don't suppose you could narrow it down to a specific PART of London, could ya?"

"Mmmm...no, I don't think so...that's really the best I could get out of it. The rest is just the same mushy shit."

RJ nods again, a little disappointed...but relieved at the same time. At least we have SOMETHING to go on now... "Alright. Thanks, man...I'll let myself out."

The kid salutes him as he walks away, back up the stairs and out the kitchen door. RJ sprints back to his car, with a new energy...new hope...and new determination.

Look out, dog...here we come.

*****

He waits outside Dorian's mansion for a long time, watching the glimmering windows reflect the late afternoon sun. They are golden in appearance as they should be - Starr's room should be positively brilliant with rich light . . . it's the only thing appropriate for her kind of blessedness, for her kind of purity. Todd glances over at the bottle of Jack Daniels leaning cockeyed on the passenger seat, it reflecting an altogether different kind of light. No, he hasn't drunk any, not yet at least.

After his brawl with RJ and the subsequent falling-apart thing, he went back to the wrecked penthouse to 'shower, shampoo and shine.' Other than the shiner on his face, he thinks he looks relatively decent - he flips the rearview mirror to get another gander at himself, to reconsider, and studies tired eyes . . . the way his mouth turns downwards. An inherent sadness brushes his features that even he sees. The old scar seems redder than usual and he knows he can't pass for twenty-five anymore. He's not even sure someone will buy that he's thirty. He smacks the mirror away and, with an indignant snort, sits back on the seat again.

How in God's name is he ever going to make up to Starr for what he did to her? Thanks to him, thanks to his fucked-up nature, he handed Starr a memory that will never go away, that will be forever branded on her view of the world. He knows those kinds of memories . . . they stick to the backs of your eyes because they're unique, out of the ordinary. Like his fourteenth birthday... every detail chiseled into Todd's memory because it was gloriously, hideously . . .unique. And in Starr's case, Todd's mistake ends up being a cruel, ironic joke on the non-routinely abused child - had he made it habit to mistreat her, the other day wouldn't have been such a big deal.

Maybe I've been too good to her, maybe she needs to learn a sense of perspective, relativity. What happened was nothing . . . relatively speaking. Todd shudders at the thought that has raced through him. Jesus, where the hell did that come from? He looks in the mirror again . . . and forces himself to see the abused child there in his eyes, the routinely abused child. He knows his logic is faulty - Starr doesn't have this look on her face, he should be thankful for his mistake being out of the ordinary. That's right, he's the one who has to put things into perspective. Not Starr . . .

"You just going to sit there, Todd, or are you going to be a man and face me?"

Blair's chilled voice cuts through the air, stunning him because he hadn't heard her approach and hadn't expected this much hatred - it's thick, dripping blood-like along the edges of her words. The truth is, he'd been so focused on Starr, that he never thought about Starr's mother or her reaction. The coldness persists as she says, "No surprise to me that you prefer to hide like the rat that you are."

Immediately, naturally, he's on the defensive and his instinct is to throw back her insults - he wants to snarl, "Fuck you, you fuckin' skanky-ass bitch." He holds his tongue, though, watching her eyes graze his lips which are in the process of forming an 'f' and then she hisses, "That is your plan, isn't it, buddy-boy? To hide?"

Todd rubs his head against the headrest tightly, exhibiting a twitch here and there of his facial muscles in clear agitation, breathing in deeply to quell his rising temper. He turns yet further and eyes the scotch, which Blair notices.

"Ohhhh...I get it," she says, "You're going to watch us all night and get drunker and drunker, feelin' sorry for yourself because you've finally made the jump - turned yourself into Peter Manning. And then . . . when you're good and wasted, you'll stumble out of the truck and call for your baby girl, crying over how you chased away your wife and boys, how you've abused your precious daughter, crying like a baby because you're so alone and so pitiful . . . you'll call out until Starr has to come and get you so you won't get arrested for disturbing the peace. Isn't that how most drunks behave?" She pauses, seeing the shiner, and then snips, "Oh look, you've gotten into a fight, too. How nice, Peter."

It takes all he's worth to not get out of the truck, grab Blair by the hair and fuckin' teach her to be . . . gentle with him, to just give him a kind fuckin' word instead of attacking him. Not surprisingly though, like with RJ, he finds himself on the verge of tears instead and he can only look downward. His eyes sting and he inhales deeply. Finally he says, "I want to apologize to her."

"You been drinkin'?"

"No."

Blair sniffs at him exaggeratedly and he blows in her face to push her away...and to prove he's telling the truth. She wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand and puts her head back in defiance.

"What's going on with you?" she asks in an accusing tone. "Starr told me everything, how you grabbed her - how you yelled at her . . . she said something about 'rape' and papers and staying out of your things? She...she was crying so hard...I've never seen her crying like that before, " Blair's face softens though and Todd sees some effort on her part at understanding . . . she's really trying. Except it doesn't come natural to her - of course, it hadn't been coming natural to Tea either, lately. Not towards him.

Shrugging slightly, he says, "I guess I'm just a bastard," and Blair lets out a hard breath.

"Oh, that is SUCH a fuckin' cop-out...chickenshit."

"Screw you," he snaps.

"HEY! You don't come clean with me, you don't see Starr. Get it?"

"Shit, Blair...don't play games with me...no fuckin' games." He looks over at her, trying to use his self-pity with her to get into that house; and she narrows her eyes with obvious distrust. He repeats, "Just let me in the house - no games."

All of a sudden, her face lights up with fury again and without warning she pokes angrily at him through the window, "NO GAMES??? You don't want me to play games??" She pokes hard at his shoulder and towards his chest, poking at him, grunting an, "I'll show you games," over and over and he puts up his arm, backing away from her . . . because she's giving him reason to hurt back.

"YOU HAVE SOME NERVE, MANNING!" she finally screams, "You hurt STARR! STARR! You can take out all that crap in your black soul on anyone OTHER than her, got me?! YOU IDIOT! YOU SELFISH IDIOT! YOU HURT OUR LITTLE GIRL! YOU HURT HER!"

He throws open the car door and steps out, she lunging at him, swinging at him, "YOU STUPID, STUPID BASTARD!!"

He grabs her arms though, because she's only asking for trouble - and he's needing to do something to protect her. He restrains her, twisting her around so she's facing outwards, her body pressed against his chest, "SHUT UP!! Don't you think I know that I hurt her?!! Why do you think I'm HERE?! I want to APOLOGIZE. . . "

Blair's eyes wet with tears, "YOU SONOFABITCH!! All the apologies in the world won't take away the hurt you gave her!" Jerking herself out of his grip, she screams something he can't understand and really doesn't care to understand. She looks back at him breathlessly, her face streaked with mascara, looking ugly to him. He glares, he can't help it. Anger and intense regret swishes in his mouth, a repulsive taste. Minutes click by as they both get a hold of themselves. He curses quietly and reaches into the truck, grabbing the bottle. He fingers the label . . . and tosses it back onto the seat. Shuts the truck door.

"I don't know what's going on," he says at last beneath his breath. "Things for Tea have been bad. The way she's been acting . . . something in her eyes . . . something's been wrong." His voice drops to a level that makes Blair think he's talking more to himself than to her. "We made love and she looked at me with . . . total fear. Nobody's looked at me like that since . . . since . . . "

Blair finishes his words, loudly, "Since the day you tried to rape me?"

He's quiet. "I didn't hurt her in that way, so why would she look at me like that? She's my wife... I'm so past . . . "

"Well, gee, Todd...you ever think MAYBE she's still squirly from the kidnapping?" Blair interrupts, sharp and sarcastic; and Todd's eyes suddenly flash with a renewed awareness of her, drawing attention that she doesn't really want...so she backs off, a little.

"Look...I don't know," she says, quieter, "Whatever's going on with Tea...is between you two. I don't wanna know, really, and I sure as hell coulda done WITHOUT the details of your sex life." Todd glowers and she sniffs at his bristling, dismissing his problems which she could care less about - really.

"She seemed alright when I talked to her."

Todd focuses in tighter at that. "What did she say to you?" he asks, and Blair gives him a strange look, shrugging.

"I don't know...uh...I just, asked her if she wanted to come over here for a while. She said no," she replies, shrugging again. Todd tips his head back a little, deciding whether or not she might be covering for Tea; but then as he looks at her makeup-streaked face, he realizes again...that no matter how much she tries, when it comes right down to it, Blair only really cares about...Blair.

"Besides," she continues, "None of that has anything to do with Starr - that's a whole separate thing and shouldn't be affecting HER."

Starr...right...focus on Starr right now, Todd has to make a rough shift in thinking, pausing long before replying. "Look, you don't understand . . . I was upset with what was happening with Tea . . . and I walked in on Starr surrounded by those newspaper articles . . . buried in all that STUFF. There she was, beautiful and sweet, her voice so . . . sweet, and she looked at me . . . And . . . " He can barely say it, he feels sick. "I watched her mouth . . . and there it was . . . on her lips . . . the words, 'Marty' and 'rape.' Marty, Marty...and rape. Jesus fucking CHRIST. I'm never going to be free of it, Blair . . . NEVER, NEVER, NEVER. Don't you get it?"

She stares back at him, unmoved. "Yeah...well...get the hell over it already. Your boys are going to learn of it, Starr's going to learn of it - them's the facts. And it's partly why I'm trying to raise a girl with strength...someone who won't be hurt when she DOES learn of it. Not SO hurt, anyway. It's why you're trying to be a good father, isn't it? So she'll understand that the man who did that was someone ELSE, someone who's dead now. But then again...maybe the rapist is alive and well after all."

"I'd never do that again . . . " Todd says immediately, but his mind wanders though . . . to Roseanne, to those 'fantasies.' It's true . . . aside from the weird experiences, he'd found himself venturing into dark wishes, desires . . . like from when he was young. Getting turned on by things that are just really, really . . . wrong. He's not convinced the ugliness inside of him is dead - his temper certainly isn't - nope, that's one thing that's alive and well. The question is, how far will it go? He shrugs, whispers, "I want to see Starr. I want to say I'm sorry."

Blair sighs heavily, dramatically. She works to find some level of compassion...admitting to herself that ultimately, it's Starr she should think about. She supposes it would be important for Starr to reconnect with Todd . . .she pictures a psychologist telling her some such drivel, imagines the words in a parenting book. Those concepts push Blair against her natural currents of thought, though, against her wanting to punish Todd, to send him away for good. That's really what she wants.

"I hate you," she says, gritting her teeth and emphasizing her southern drawl.

"Likewise," Todd answers.

"I know the right thing is to let you talk to her. But I don't wanna let you. I want you to know that, I want you to feel that when you look your daughter in her eyes - know that you're hated for the things you do."

He nods . . . "You'll let me see her then?"

A pause...then... "Yes." Her mouth is tight and Todd locks the truck door. Blair stares icily, looks him up and down and snaps, "But you better watch yourself . . . you say the RIGHT THINGS . . . you make things RIGHT with her."

"I'll do my best."

He walks towards the open front door and turns to see Blair still looking after him . . . she mouths once more that she hates him. And Todd knows it's true - he finds an odd comfort in the sameness of it. He almost wants to hug her, thinking, thank you, thank you . . . maybe I'm not crazy.

When he's in the foyer, noise from the television in the upstairs family room drifts downwards and he recognizes that it's a child's program playing. When he reaches the doorway at the top of the stairs, he sees Starr on her stomach on the floor, grinning at the program's host petting a baby lion, he letting the creature nuzzle him. Todd hates to disturb her, she's so peaceful and oblivious. But he has to make things right . . . like Blair says . . . like he wants to.

"Starr?"

She turns to him and her face says it all. It brightens immediately...but then for a second, just a second, a new hesitation shades it. Todd feels it like he felt RJ's punch; and he almost turns and leaves right then.

But then she jumps up, letting the sun back in. "Daddy!" When he kneels down and holds her to him, he nearly cries with relief at how good it feels to have someone respond to him in a positive way. He didn't realize how long it had been.

"Aww, baby," he says after a moment, "I'm so sorry about the other day. I'm so, so sorry." He holds her tighter, but Starr backs off a little, wearing a sad expression, remembering.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Daddy. I'll never go into your office again."

"No, no, no . . . it wasn't your fault. You can go in there any time you want. It's like any other room - same rules . . . it wasn't your fault, Starr. You hear me?" His heart clenches . . . because he knows that's the mantra that hurt children need to learn - it was something nobody ever told him. It sickens him that he needs to be telling Starr that mantra.

"But I made a mess and if I didn't maybe you wouldn't be mad. Maybe . . .maybe . . . Tee would still be here."

Oh, god...she knows... he thinks for a split-second, but then refocuses. "Oh no, Starr . . . no, you didn't make me do anything and you didn't make Tee leave. My getting angry had nothing to do with you. You were curious and that's a good thing . . . I lost control and it was wrong of me to do that. *I* was the wrong one. *I* broke rules. And . . . because I broke rules, Tee left."

She nods seriously, their eyes meeting.

He said it again, "Starr, it wasn't your fault. You have to understand that. Tee left because of me, not you."

She's still not so sure and she wriggles in his loose grasp of her, so he lets her go. She rubs her arms and he knows she's remembering how he'd held her up - how he'd lifted her off the ground in a way she'd never known before. He swallows hard the lump in his throat . . . and caresses her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

"I wish I could take it all back...but I can't. I lost my temper . . . and you have every right to be upset with me for it. Please tell me you understand that it wasn't your fault, that it wasn't you who made Tee leave. Please tell me that, Shorty."

She smiles slightly at his use of her nickname, but she furrows her brows. "Daddy, why did you smell funny?"

He looks down and shakes his head, "Umm...alcohol. I was drinking alcohol and it smells . . . funny. Makes people act different sometimes . . . a little different. They lose judgment. But . . . it's not why I did what I did . . . it's just . . . that's what smelled funny. That's it . . . that's all it is. It's not why - it's just . . . "

"Grandpa . . . I mean, Asa drinks alcohol."

"And he's the same as he always is, right?"

"Yeah. Nobody should drink it. That's what they say in school."

"Yeah . . . it's bad for all people . . . especially kids. It's more poison to them . . . it's poison. I'm sorry about everything. It won't happen again - I promise you." He doesn't feel like making promises though - he's lost faith in himself. How many promises has he broken to Starr already? He's afraid to count them up.

Starr brightens for a second, "Has Tee called?"

He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, "No . . . not yet. She will, though. I'm sure of it."

"She told me, goodbye...and she said to make sure I talk to you...and listen to you...and not to stay mad," she says, with that kid-like concentration, trying to remember everything she's supposed to remember.

She said all that...? he thinks, knowing that Starr wouldn't lie about that...wouldn't lie about anything. Starr was the last person she talked to...and even as angry as she must've been, Tea hadn't said anything bad about him. Not a thing. He suddenly feels that void, her absence in the kindness she left behind...and misses her more than ever.

"Maybe you should tell her it wasn't her fault that you got mad. Maybe she thinks she made you mad?"

"Yeah . . . maybe she does. I, uh . . . oh GOD," he smiles in an effort to not to get too emotional, but it's all so hard at the moment. He's at a loss for words and Starr hugs him around the neck.

"I love you, Daddy. And I know Tee does, too."

Tears find their way out anyway and he hugs her and he's thankful that she feels safe . . . thoroughly safe. "I love you, too, Starr, please don't forget that. It's forever, okay?"

"I know. And I love you, too, forever."

Later, when he drives away, he feels a little renewed, but still pretty down. He battles as to whether to take any more poison into his system. He wants to . . . stopping on the way to RJ's place. Pulls over and unscrews the bottle. He sniffs at the liquid . . . but he can see Starr's face, and he considers throwing the bottle out. Except just as he was about let it fly, he remembers Blair saying how much she hated him . . . and thought of the empty penthouse...and he holds onto the scotch. Setting it on the passenger seat again.

Not now . . . but maybe later. Because Starr was away from him . . . safe and secure . . . away from him.

*****

Across the ocean, night has covered the English countryside for hours. Tea and the twins sleep soundly in their room, having grown more accustomed to the place...the boys in the portable crib by the fire, and Tea in the bed, buried under a pile of blankets and pillows. Out in the main room, Dean sits in the chair by the fireplace, engrossed in the glow of his laptop...reviewing, and reviewing, and reviewing again. He isn't really sure why...he knows everything there is to know about the upcoming job...knows exactly what his detail is, and exactly how to do it. Endless rehearsals were making sure of it. If anything, he knows he should be resting up, clearing his head...but he can't.

Sure you can...you just DON'T WANT TO.

Dean freezes...then whips his head around, thinking for sure he just heard somebody talking. But the main room is very dark in the distance, out of the firelight's reach. So it looms there, like a thick, shadowy curtain. He stares into it, squinting...then he looks back at his computer, shaking his head. He rubs his eyes, with a heavy sigh.

"I'm hearing things. Great," he mutters.

Mmmmm...that's riiiiight. You are.

Again, Dean turns to look...but again, nothing. He makes a confused face, knowing he's not imagining it now. He DID just hear it again...a voice. A female voice.

"Tea?" he asks, since she's the only female there. But his confusion only grows as he looks at the bedroom door...still closed.

No, baby...guess again.

"The fuck is goin' on here..." he wonders aloud, as he puts the laptop down and stands up.

Oooooh...y'know, I always loved it when you said that word. Some people sound so good when they swear...so sexy... the voice purrs, with a flirtatious giggle.

All Dean can do is stand there in shock, wondering if someone is playing some kind of game with him...or if...

Oh, you're not nuts, baby...don't worry about that.

A silence passes, then he walks around the room...looking everywhere and finding nothing. Finally, he stops, half-laughing to himself...then he grabs his coat and goes outside, digging for the cigarettes in his pocket. A cold wind swirls around him as he tries to light up, making the flame sputter.

Those things'll kill you, y'know... the voice whispers, right in his ear, making the hair on the back of his neck stand up, and making him drop both the cigarette and the lighter. He looks around, eyes wide. He doesn't want to speak...because speaking would mean giving credence to whatever it is that's messing with him...but the words start coming out anyway.

"Who...IS THAT? You better show yourself, and I mean, like, NOW," he hisses through his teeth...still not willing to speak in a normal tone of voice.

Don't you recognize me yet?

Dean half-laughs again. "Not really."

Oh, come on...guess.

"Look, whoever you are...this is private fuckin' property, and you're trespassing."

The voice sighs. You used to be so much FUN, D...where's your sense of humor?

D? he repeats, in his head...she knows you.

Well, no shit, Sherlock, the voice replies, in his other ear...causing him to whirl around. But of course, there's nothing there. His jaw sets hard and, tired of being messed with, he reaches behind him and pulls his gun out of his belt, aiming it in every direction...eyes scanning for any signs of movement in the dark.

"Show yourself NOW...I'm not gonna tell you again," he says, as calmly as possible.

Everything goes quiet for a moment, except for the wind rustling the trees. Dean's eyes continue to search, until finally, he catches sight of something in the distance...shadows moving within shadows. One takes shape and approaches...limbs seeming to grow from it without even breaking stride. He makes a face at the strangeness of it, then aims in as it---she---steps out of the protective blackness, into full view. His lips part, his eyes widen...and she smiles, her white teeth almost sparkling.

"Hi, baby."

Without realizing, Dean continues to reel from what he's seeing...pulling back slowly, gun still aimed in. He can't speak, but his mouth moves as though he were. She laughs a little, taking fairy-light steps, almost floating toward him. He backs away, but presses in with the gun as if it could make her go away.

She laughs again. "Put that away. You look stupid pointing a gun at nothing."

Dean lets out a sharp breath, which seems to free up his voice. "Wh-what...the FUCK is going on here...where the FUCK did YOU come from..."

"Shhh..." she replies, putting a slender finger to her lips. "...don't wanna wake Tea, do you?"

His face darkens at that, the shock wearing away into anger. "What're you doing here, Rosie...how in the HELL did you...how did you find this place?" he asks, flexing his hands around the gun, then reacquiring his grip.

Roseanne shrugs casually, brushing her hair off her shoulder. It swings around behind her as if carried on a separate breeze; and he suddenly notices her clothes...light, cottony...as if it were a spring day. He makes another disbelieving face, and she smiles again.

"Well...it's complicated. It'd take way too long to explain..." she says, gliding around him, "...but I think you know you can't shoot me, so put the gun away already."

Dean watches as she comes back around in front of him, stopping...seeming to set down on the ground, as she folds her arms. He stares at her for a second, then reluctantly drops his arms.

"There, that's better."

He swallows hard, finally giving into the idea that he must converse with this...whatever. "Tell me what the hell is going on here, Roseanne...how did you find us?"

Roseanne shrugs again. "Let's just say...I followed the rain."

Dean looks back at her, confused. "You...FOLLOWED the rain?"

"That's what I said," she replies, taking a moment to look around...taking mental pictures of the house and the grounds.

"Hmmm. Not bad...you get cable in there?" she asks, gesturing toward the cottage, and Dean follows her glance toward the house, then looks back at her with a humorless laugh.

"Quit wasting my time, Roseanne...what do you want with us?"

She cocks an eyebrow at that. "Y'know, you keep saying 'US,' " she says, then cracks up. "Ohhhh...wow...you fucked her already...good for you."

Dean's mouth falls open, insulted. "What?! What did you just say?" he replies, and she covers her mouth in mock-embarrassment.

"Oh, I'm sorry...what I MEANT was, you...made her fall madly in love with you."

He doesn't answer...he just glares at her instead. Finally, Roseanne sighs, rolling her eyes a little.

"Actually, now that I'm looking at you, no...you didn't do it yet, did you?" she asks, but still no response. She shakes her head at him. "Well, what's stopping you?"

"The hell do YOU care? Why are you so interested in what I'M doing all of a sudden?" he finally replies, and she grins.

"Because I know it's what you always wanted," she says, moving toward him. He recoils a bit, as she runs her hands up from his stomach to his shoulders, making massaging circles as she moves up to his neck.

"You've wanted her from the very beginning. Even when you were with me, I could tell...it wasn't me you were making love to...it was her. It was always Tea...you live for her, don't you, baby...you want so much to be with her..." she whispers...and it feels so soft, like silk touching his ears, his neck...so comforting...so seductive.

"Why...why're you doing this, Roseanne? The hell do you want from me..." he mutters, feeling his eyelids getting heavier as he stares into her eyes, fascinating in their depth and darkness.

"Shhhhhh...it's alright, baby, it's alright...just listen. I came here to warn you...you don't have much time. Todd came to see me today...he knows, baby...he knows Tea's with you..." she continues, her arms around his neck, her lips right by his ear.

"...and it won't be long until he finds this place...he WILL find you...and when he does, he won't be interested in talking things over. His rage...his fury...it's blinding him, taking him over. He can't control it...and you know what that means, D...he's going to hurt her...he's done it before, and he'll do it again."

Unconsciously, Dean reacts to that...and Roseanne grins as she feels him twitch in her arms.

"That's what I wanted to tell you...you need to move fast, baby...you need to win her...you need to make her see that she can't ever go back to him...because she's in danger...her children are in danger...their father is coming..."

Eyes still closed, Dean's brow tightens with worry. "But she doesn't...she doesn't trust me..."

"Yes, she does...she DOES...otherwise, she wouldn't be here. Baby, don't you see? YOU are her savior...YOU are the one. YOU can make it right...you can rescue her from this fate...you can rescue her children...you can make sure he never lays a hand on them ever again. You can do it, baby...just like you saved her from those gangbangers on that terrible night, remember? You carried her out of there...you SAVED her life...and the lives of those beautiful boys...YOU did that...and now you have to do it again..." she says...then suddenly, she takes a sharp breath in.

Dean seems to snap out of it as she pulls away. "Roseanne?" he asks, watching as she seems to fade in and out of view.

"Ohhh...shit," she mutters, looking down at herself...then she looks back at him.

"You have to do this, baby...if you love her, protect her...get her outta here before it's too late..." she says, walking backwards, retreating into the dark. Dean watches her go for a minute, then shakes his head as if trying to wake himself up.

"Wait...Rose-Roseanne? Wait a minute..." he says, chasing her into the shadows...but he doesn't get far. Darkness obliterates everything as it rises up around him, like he's in a tank that's filling with water. It disorients him, making him dizzy as it sucks the air out of his lungs. He can't even yell for help...all he can do is close his eyes, relax...and succumb to nothingness.

But then...something happens. As soon as his body gives in, the suffocating feeling seems to lessen. He feels it, loosening its grip; and he finds he has the room to inhale...and he sighs, relieved. He inhales again, deeper...and opens his eyes as he blows it out. His breath seems to chase the darkness away, like wind scattering dust...and the world comes back into focus. Dean blinks a few times, as if making sure he's seeing what he's seeing...

...then he sits up, finding himself...back where he started. He makes a face, feeling completely out of it, as he looks around at everything. But nothing has changed...everything is as it was when he...

...when I what? he asks himself, suddenly unable to remember. He stands up from the couch, slowly...hands out, touching the air as if he could make sure of its existence that way. He feels the slight breeze moving through his fingers, and becomes aware of the heat on his back, from the still-burning hearth. It takes another moment, but things seem to slowly settle back in around him...or maybe...he's the one doing the settling.

"What're you doing...tai-chi or something?" a female voice suddenly asks.

Startled, Dean whirls around...and sees Tea standing there in the bedroom doorway, leaning to one side with her arms crossed, an amused grin on her face.

"Jesus..." he sighs, harshly...still feeling a bit disoriented. Tea's grin disappears at his unfriendly reaction, and she makes a more concerned face.

"You okay?"

He breathes hard, eyes closed again for a moment...then he nods. Tea looks over her shoulder, checking the boys...then she pulls the door along behind her, almost closing it, as she takes a few steps into the room. She looks him up and down, taking in his allover uneasiness...and isn't sure what to say.

"Bad dream?" is all she can think of, and he half-laughs, running a hand over his scruffy, spiky hair.

"Yeah...I guess," he replies, and she makes a face at the tone of his voice...so unsure and out-of-sorts...so unusual for him. She wants to ask, but doesn't. Instead, she lets it go with a sigh as she heads for the kitchen.

"Well...I can't sleep, either. And I didn't wanna wake the boys, so...hope you don't mind if I just...hang out here for a while."

Dean nods, but is obviously still distracted. Tea watches him as he feels his way over to the chair, easing his way into it like an old man. Then he closes his eyes as lets his head drop back, exhausted. Tea wags her eyebrows at his strange behavior...but she turns away finally, busying herself with the usual, late-night coffee-making.

Collapsed in the chair, Dean listens to the calm that fills the room...just the crackling fire and the coffeemaker chugging and dripping. It soothes him, the sounds of things being as normal as they could get. And he opens his eyes slowly, as if waking up all over again...lifting his head and leaning forward a bit. Tea putters around a while longer, rinsing cups and drying them out on her long sweatshirt. When she finally turns around, she locks eyes with him...and freezes.

It gets even quieter all of a sudden, and Tea is...not really unnerved by his look so much, as she is curious about it. He stares into her with a strange intensity that she can't even describe...the closest thing she can compare it to is the way...Todd often looked at her. The thought makes her look down suddenly, breaking the connection...and she immediately wonders about her husband, wonders...worries...questions and blames herself in the space of a few seconds. She sniffs it back, though, turning away from Dean to grab the carafe. She pours the coffee and grabs the cups, walking over and handing one to him as she sits down on the couch, tucking her legs under her.

"Thanks," he says, and she nods. Silence again, as she sips from her cup, staring into the fire.

Dean continues to look at her...not wanting to stare, but for some reason, he can't take his eyes off of her. Whatever it was he dreamt about, it was directing his thoughts at her; but he makes himself look away, because he isn't sure what it is he's supposed to do, or say. But...it nags at him as he takes a drink, as he feels the hot liquid spill down his throat into his gut...a single word comes to mind...

"Todd," he mutters, to himself...but Tea's eyes dart over to him, wide with surprise.

"What?"

Dean swallows hard as he looks back at her...and over a tense silence, his jumbled thoughts start to come together.

"Tea...how did you...get involved with him?" he finally asks, quietly. Tea makes a face at that unusual tone popping up again, and that unusual look in his eyes.

"Why are you asking me that?" she replies, calm...but wary.

Dean sighs...now you've done it, he thinks...knowing he has to follow through now.

"I, uh...I'm just...um..." he says, stumbling over words, and Tea pushes a little.

"What?"

He sighs again. "I guess I just...wanna know how YOU came about...same way you wanted to know about me."

Tea's mouth drops open a bit...more surprised by his candor than pissed at it. But she hesitates all the same, rubbing a knot in her shoulder for a moment to stall him, thinking maybe he'll just drop it. But when she looks back, he's still looking at her, waiting. So she sighs this time.

"Look, Dean...I...I don't wanna be rude, okay...but...I don't wanna talk about it."

He takes that in...and does consider dropping the subject; but then he simply shakes his head, before he even realizes he's done it. Tea reacts, her eyes zeroing in on him.

"What is that supposed to mean?" she asks, her back going up as he stares into her.

"Well...I don't get it. I mean, I'm supposed to be completely open with YOU about MY past...but you won't do the same for me. Why?" he asks, returning to his typical, unflappable self; and Tea lets out an insulted breath...though to be honest, she can't think of anything to come back at him with. So she takes another sip of coffee as she gets her thoughts together, then plunks the cup down on the table and looks directly at him.

"See, you don't...you don't get to ask me that, okay? YOU...don't get to ask me ANYTHING personal. Because it's none of your business," she says, with that lawyer-perfect pitch and articulation...and Dean takes it in with a nod, feeling strangely pleased by her put-down...admiring it, even. He's still quiet when Tea decides to add.

"My relationship with my husband...is off-limits. Get it?"

Dean cocks an eyebrow at that...then he looks away. "Nope...not really," he replies, casually, as he stands up and stretches. Tea follows him with her eyes.

"Well, I don't know how else to put it," she says, and Dean just sighs.

"Forget it. I'll just keep my opinions to myself."

"Opinions? On what?" she asks, growing more offended as he ignores her, stretching his neck, then grabbing his coat.

"Nothing, forget it," he replies, without even looking at her. Tea watches, speechless, as he gulps down the rest of his coffee and he heads for the door...stopping before he opens it.

"I'll just be a good boy and keep my mouth shut from here on in...we don't have to talk. I just thought maybe...you might need to."

With that, he leaves, closing the door behind him. Tea stiffens as the cold air hits her, then dissipates in the warmth of the room. She stares at the door, feeling...she doesn't know what she's feeling, except that...he's right. She looks back at the fire, torn...wanting to follow him, but not sure if she's willing to accept what that...might mean. She bites the inside of her lip, still gazing at the fire...

...as Dean lights up outside. He blows the first breath of smoke out angrily, paces around...and then wonders exactly what it is he's angry at. He doesn't expect Tea to think much of him, much less open up to him, so...what am I so pissed about? Why is this bothering me so much? Why do I even...

...care?

He lets out a breath that sounds like a laugh, then he shakes his head...at himself, at his own stupidity. He has to wonder all of a sudden what the hell ever possessed him to call her; but then, it just leads him right back to the same thing. This is where all that envisioning gets you...happy now? He stares at the black woods surrounding the cottage; and suddenly remembers being in this same position in his...dream? He looks around, uneasy at that thought...but the sound of the door squeaking open makes him turn away from the woods. He sees Tea pulling the door shut, and wandering over toward him, pulling her coat closed. She folds her arms for warmth, shifting back and forth as she stands next to him. He watches her closely, her eyes down, her breath coming out in steamy clouds. Nothing is said for a moment...then finally, she sighs.

"Um...I'm sorry," she whispers, then pauses. Dean doesn't respond...he simply takes one last drag off the cigarette, then flicks it away. Tea watches the flying orange glow fade as it hits the cold gravel.

"I, uh...I shouldn't have...I mean..." she stutters, trying to apologize, or explain...but she can't seem to make one coherent thought, so she stops, sighing again.

"...I don't know what I'm trying to say."

Dean grins at that, slightly...still just looking at her, and not saying anything. Tea stares into the woods for a moment, then finally looks at him straight on.

"I started out...working for Todd," she says, gauging his reaction...which is just more of the same, patient listening. She breathes deeply, looking away again, as she re-tucks her hands under her arms.

"I represented this friend of his, who was being held on murder charges...and I was able to get her off, even though she did pull the trigger. Todd was...impressed enough with me, I guess, that he, uh...he hired me to represent HIM. He was going through a nasty divorce...Blair was going for sole custody of Starr, and...given his criminal record, it didn't look too good for him. So he came up with this...crazy idea...that if he could just get married, and show the court that he could provide a stable home environment for Starr, then...Blair wouldn't be able to shut him out totally. So one day...I got a ring...and an offer...I couldn't refuse," she says, then stops for a second to let some tears out.

Dean turns slightly, to get a better look at her...but still, just listens. Tea sniffs, then clears her throat...still staring straight ahead, trying not to look at him.

"It was simple, really...just get married and stay married for a year. Live with him, provide the 'stable home,' and win custody of Starr. That was it. One million dollars was deposited to my bank account the day we married, and there were four million more to come."

Dean makes an impressed face...and Tea clears her throat again, finally glancing at him.

"And no personal ties...no love, no sex...nothing like that. We even had separate bedrooms. It was all just...business."

"I take it...it didn't stay that way, though," Dean finally says, quietly...and her face softens, sadly.

"You'd be amazed how long it stayed that way," she replies, as she starts to walk around a bit, getting cold standing in one spot. "I mean, yeah, we...clicked immediately, but...our relationship has never really been what you call...typical...romantic...or cute."

Dean follows her with his eyes, even more curious...as she sighs, kicking the gravel around.

"Passionate, though, yeah...definitely passionate. The yell-and-scream-and-slam-doors type of passion...that's definitely us," she says, with a half-laugh. She shakes her head as she bends down to pick up a piece of the gravel...holding the cold stone in her hand. A short silence passes...and Dean waits for more, watching as she throws the stone as far as she can.

"We had some hard lessons to learn. He had to learn to open up, to trust me, to...realize that he was not only capable of loving somebody, but that he actually deserved to get a little back..." she says, sniffling from the cold and the tears.

"...and *I*...I had to learn that Todd has...a history I can't even begin to understand, not even now...the kind of history that prevents him from ever being...at peace, y'know? But I thought I could handle it though, I thought I knew the kind of heinous shit he had to live with when he was a kid. My mom ran out on our family when I was little, so I really thought I could..." she stops, feeling more tears running down her cheeks, getting cold and leaving tracks.

"...I dunno...reach him...and I did. Or I would THINK that I did...but then it would slip away...I would lose my hold, and after a while, I just...couldn't deal with it, I guess...the fact that I was...so in love with this guy, and I couldn't help him...I couldn't...fix...what was wrong with him, and he didn't seem to want to help himself," she continues, stopping to wipe her face. Dean listens to her, mesmerized by her...pain...as she paces around now, growing agitated as she relives it all.

"It just became this never-ending cycle. He would constantly do these...stupid, terrible things to sabotage himself, AND us. And he would be so awful to me, he'd blame me for everything, just to get me to go away, and I would, I would leave, and swear I'd never come back..." she says, alternating gesturing with her hands and wiping her face.

"...but it never lasted long. We treated each other so horribly, but I always went back. As awful, and cold, and cruel as he could...CAN be...he has just as much..." she struggles again for the right word, and can only come up with one.

"...beauty...in him...and it always...pulls me back," she finishes, glancing over her shoulder at Dean.

"Does that make any sense at all?"

He nods, slowly...mostly because he doesn't want her to stop talking, even if it is all about her rat-bastard husband. She was doing what he couldn't expect---but really did want---her to do. He was hearing her inner thoughts, and it was fascinating...moving. Tea had felt more deeply about this than he'd ever felt about anything in his whole life...and he watches her with a new awareness, as she wipes her face again, turning her eyes back up to the sky.

"Ohhhh..." she sighs. "...anyway...we finally did separate for a while, after..." she stops again, remembering the Friday-the-thirteenth-wedding, and the DID for the first time in a long time. She has to breathe long and hard before starting again.

"...anyhow. It was while we were separated that he finally got some...professional help. He found a wonderful therapist, and she was able to...well, she did a lot. We were FINALLY...able to just...be happy..." she trails off, covering her eyes for a moment to cry behind her hand.

Dean keeps back, expecting her to keep going; but it just seems that she's crying harder as the seconds pass. He sees her shaking with sobs that sound so painful, he feels it in his own gut. Still, he hesitates to cross that invisible boundary...wanting to, but balking at the possible consequences. Then a thought suddenly pops into his head...something from that dream-thing he had...

... you need to move fast, baby...you need to win her...you need to make her see that she can't ever go back to him...because she's in danger...her children are in danger...their father is coming...

He makes a face at that...god, that's stupid...why would I be thinking that...how would *I* even KNOW that? he wonders, then looks back at her, at how completely shredded her insides are over this man who apparently abused her, even though she devoted herself to him...over this man whose self-destructive tendencies are destroying her...endangering her, and her children. He remembers back to Tea's kidnapping, and dealing with Todd then. How volatile he was...impulsive and ballsy, to a pretty extreme level...a combination that obviously made him unstable, and dangerous. So the idea that he would turn his anger back on those he supposedly loves...isn't a stupid idea at all, Dean realizes. And Tea would become an all-too-willing target, submitting to whatever Todd decides to dish out, because she feels guilty...not just for leaving him, but...for every bad thing that's ever happened to him. Madness, he thinks...then he walks over to her.

Tea's cries have lessened by this time...but she keeps her eyes covered anyway, ashamed. Breaking down like this was not what she wanted to do. She hears the gravel crunching behind her as he approaches and stops.

"Hey...I'm sorry..." he says...with such gentle compassion that it takes her off-guard. She busts out crying all over again, unable to stop herself in time; and after a moment, she feels his hand on her shoulder...a comforting touch that just breaks her down, right to the bottom. But she tries to pull away, anyway...only, she can't move. He's got a good hold on her, even though it doesn't feel like it.

"...I really am sorry," he says again, leaning in closer to her. "I had...no idea."

Behind her hands, Tea wishes she could just disappear...just take the boys and simply fold them into herself until they all vanish. She has no idea which way to go...much less what to do. How did I get here...how did things get to be like this? What did I do wrong? she asks herself...but has no answers. No control. She's lost her grip again, and now...things may never be right again. A sense of utter powerlessness overwhelms her suddenly...draining her energy as it flows through her. She steps back to balance herself, but only ends up backing into Dean...who catches her before she falls.

Everything freezes as they stand there in this backward, awkward position...but neither of them lets go. Another moment passes, silent...tense...each of them feeling the closeness of the other, skating along that thin edge of unknown, dangerous territory. Finally, Tea closes her eyes...knowing what she should do, but is just too...tired...too damned tired to do.

"Ohgod...what am I gonna do...what am I gonna do..." she whispers over and over, more to herself, as new tears melt the frozen tracks on her cheeks. Dean has no idea what to say, or do, except to just...keep holding her. He sighs hard, then turns her around and pulls her into him. She doesn't fight the arms encircling her...she simply gives into it, burying her face in his chest as she cries her heart out.

*****

Roseanne pushes back from the toilet in her cell, flushing, then wiping her mouth as she backs up against her cot. She'd puked twice already since she...came back. That was the best way she could describe it. She laughs a little, realizing how ridiculous it sounds...yeah, that's right, just got back from England...jolly good fun. She laughs again, pulling herself up onto the cot and collapsing...swallowing to keep the gag reflex at bay.

"Ohhhh...shit..." she breathes, still not used to the nausea that now seems to be following each...trip. She'd gotten sick after wrestling with Todd in the mausoleum, then again after their confrontation in the visiting area...and right now. It worries her for a second, the fact that it seems to be getting a little worse each time. But she'd gone so much farther, and done so much more than she ever imagined. She cracks herself up, imagining how hot and heavy it must be in that cottage by now.

"It's okay...it's working...it's all...coming together..." she whispers to herself, as she closes her eyes. Think it...and it will be real. That's what Oba had said...oh...Oba... she thinks, suddenly remembering her mentor, still in the infirmary. She makes a mental note to check on her in the morning, as she drifts off...resting up for the next day's work.

To Be Continued