Todd Revisited: Visit (Chapter 20)

He was awakened by the sound of footsteps and a clang of bars. Opening his eyes, a small amount of tears had gathered in the corners of his eyes from the dream he had, and from the failed visit from Viki; everything seemed one now. Nothing was going as he ever expected. He was wishing for a joyous reunion with his family and had gotten nothing. He focused on the movement coming toward his cell and saw the face of his daughter. There she was, the most beautiful girl in the world. Again, tears came to his eyes and he followed her every step toward his cell.


"Hi Shorty."  He heard himself say.  "You're all grown up.  I'm so glad that you believe me."


She grabbed a chair and pulled it up in front of the bars.  "So, you know my nickname.  Let's see what else you know about me and my family."


His heart sank.  Looking at her, puzzled, he waited to hear what she had to say.


She surprised him, with her blond hair and eyes reminiscent of her mother's; she was testy, strong-willed and beautiful.    So was Blair, he thought.  Like mother, like . . .


She took from her bag a list of questions she had for him.  Inside himself, he laughed a bit, thinking of her "list of demands" when she was a child, that was long enough to grace the staircase at LaBoulaie.  How he missed his little Great One.


She began to shoot questions at him; all about her reptiles, her pets, things she did, things they did, but, he noticed, nothing about things they felt or shared.  Yet, he went along, as if nothing mattered, and rattled off his answers.  Things he had gone over in his head for the last eight years to keep him grounded.  He never wanted to forget her, or Blair or anything about his life.  No matter what they did to him.


When she finally finished, and revealed The Unauthorized Biography of Todd Manning to her, he was even more puzzled.  Why ask me things anyone could have read?  It made little sense to him, until she exploded into a rage.   


"Don't.  Don't do that.  You're not my father, Jack was right, you're not my father, you just can't be."


"Why not?"


"Because my dad loves us, and he loved me, and he might not be perfect but he would never have stayed away from us that long."


He thought about what to say, reminding himself that he was dealing with her feelings and needed to put his aside, and focus.  He maintained his composure and resisted the urge to break down.  "I didn't have a choice."  She did not like that response, but he kept on.  I would have come home if I could have."


"I don't believe you.  I don't.  And I don't know who you are and why you are doing this, but it is CRUEL!"  She shouted.  Her voice reverberated off the metal bars all around them.


At that point, she knocked her bag off the chair and out of it fell Fred the Magic Frog, still green in his puffed-up little way.  This in turn lead to a whirlwind of information that was almost too much for him to process.  It was not hers, it was Hope's.  Hope was her daughter.  His baby girl had birthed a child.  Already.  And he had missed it.  At the same time, he wanted to know what lowlife had knocked her up?  And could not believe he actually asked her.  Her answer was almost incomprehensible.  He got himself out of the chair, leaned on the bunk.  "I have a granddaughter with Marty Saybrooke?"  His stomach would have emptied their contents, but he had not eaten since the macaroni and cheese at McBain's.


"No, you don't, my father does."  She said.  He turned and looked at her.  She was fire.  Right then, nothing else mattered but her and this baby.


"Do you have a picture?  Do you?  Can I see it?"


She hesitated.  His heart beat out a number of beats while he waited for the answer.  She angrily took her cell phone out of her bag and handed it to him.  And then, it happened.


Flooding back to him was the little face of Starr, his Little Starr, the day he had met her for the first time, and he could not contain his tears.  Through them, "She has your smile."


She faltered.  Tears were creeping to the edge of her eyes.  


He continued.  "The first time I ever held you, Vicki put you in my arms, and you smiled, like this." He attempted to gain calm, with no success.  "It was the first time in my life that the sun came out.  Thank you my Little Starr," and he handed her back the cell phone as John McBain made his way into the cell block.


"Let him out," McBain ordered.  He was still his dry, cool self.  Starr was visibly shaken, and Todd brought himself back to a position of balance and accord.  Obviously, they were going somewhere.





Looking out the window, behind a metallic grate that separated him from John in the squad car, he also thought back to his experiences in Ireland.  For some reason, throughout his whole time back in Llanview, that huge epic film had been the one he was running over most.  It even invaded his dreams, and many of his thoughts.  


Over the past weeks, he had gotten stronger.  With the cast off his arm, and his shoulders almost healed, he was able to prop himself up in the bed, on his elbows, and with help, he could sit up.  At this point, he was going by Tom, occasionally Son would slip out of them, and more often than not, Lad.  The dreams continued, and often they plagued him with night sweats and screams, but they also revealed pieces of himself.  He had learned, over the last few weeks since Tom had made his appearance to Aman and Lilly, that the woman was a real person that in one dream he called "his wife."  He had decided then that she would always be that to him, regardless of what happened otherwise.  And, if she were his wife, then that child most likely was their baby.  His baby.  And, he vowed to never even think of doing anything that The Man (his father) would do, regarding his child.  But, for now, that was all.


He started to realize that he was not sleeping as much as he thought.  Lilly would tell him how long he slept; for him, it seemed ages longer.  When he asked about it, she would simply say, "No, you were awake, Tom, we had a really lovely chat about my stew again."  And, it was becoming clearer and clearer to him that something was not quite right.


He knew this point in his recovery in Ireland was when he discovered two very important, yet destructive and devastating things.  He learned who Tom and Pete really were, and he learned why they came to be.


He could not spend longer with that though, since they had pulled up in front of The Impostor's home.  For a second, he hesitated to get out of the car, because something gripped his gut and would not let him move.  Where was the penthouse?  He was certain that he had lived there, really close to the end of his time in Llanview the last time . . . he pushed his hand to his temple to curb the sharp, invasive pain.  Whenever he approached that time, he would get that aching reminder.  "I've really got to work on that, too," he said aloud.


"Come on, let's go.  Starr's right behind us, pulling up now."


He looked at McBain.  "I am not sure I can do this."


John's face slightly softened, if you could call it that.  "You can.  You will.  It's best that everyone knows, right?  If what you are saying is true, you'll get everything back, I've promised you that, right?"


He stepped out of the car, into the sunlight, and looked right into McBain's eyes.  "I know, but . . ."


McBain flashed him a small smile.  "I'm counting on your genes to bring down that bastard, so don't let me down."


Todd couldn't smile in return.  He was still reeling from Starr, from Vicki, from Tea, heck, he was still reeling from that kiss between he and Blair.  Just then he realized how tired he was.  So he did not bother to answer or to banter, he just followed McBain to the doorway.