The Fourth Life: Chapter 2

Todd thrashed in the covers, wildly, waking Blair.  She sat up, watching him, afraid to touch or disturb him as he moved.  She attempted to calm him by speaking soothingly to him, but he continued to flail and turn, and moan.  She tried to listen to what he was saying, but she couldn't tell.  His distress got stronger, until he literally screamed out "Don't!!" and sat up, sucking in air and blowing it out at a terrified rate.  


She put her hands gently on his shoulders, "It's okay.  You're safe, in the penthouse.  I'm right here."


"Blair," he said, reaching for her.  She had been here before, with him, holding and consoling him.  But his terror seemed elevated, and his anger was profound.  His fists were tight around handfuls of sheet.  She pulled his head to her breast, and rocked slowly.  His terror was palpable.  He grabbed onto her, holding fast, groping for her in the dark.


Jack, who had been awakened by his father's scream, remained outside the door, listening.  Hearing his father cry out, and then sob made him feel sick in the pit of his stomach.


"Tell me, what it is, Todd?  Tell me about it."


He swallowed, and crying through his speaking, he talked about it.  "It was Leona.  I was back in that rock cage...he was...I wanted him to tell me everything, you know, I wanted to know, once and for all...he was laughing at me, laughing over and over....and he ripped my shirt open, in the back, he started to cut me...and I asked him...what did you do to me?  What did you do to me all those times?...and he laughed and...then...he..." he stopped.


"Shhh.  Shhh, no more, he's gone.  You killed him.  You ended it.  He's gone, and he can't come back and hurt us."


She was rocking him, faster now, and he was quieting.  "I'm sorry, it was just so real.  So real, Blair."


"I know.  Shhhh, now.  You're here, with me.  Your sons are in the other room, and Little Ray is safe in the crib in the nursery.  You save them all from being taken, when you went with him.  You're the brave one, you saved us all, Todd.  You sacrificed yourself.  For me, for Ray."


"If he ever hurt you, if he ever took you..."


"He didn't.  It's okay, he can't anymore.  You made sure of that."


Jack, outside the door, had slid down the wall to the floor, staring off, silently.  What he heard, he had not been prepared for.  His father, the resident badass, the toughest, coolest guy ever, crying and afraid.  He was confused, sickened.  He wasn't sure if he felt embarrassment or pity, or some combination of both.  He felt like a cheater, or as if he had done something terrible, just by listening in.  What had the man done to his father?  What did he want the man to tell him?


His father's voice was hoarse now, as he and his mother talked about other things.  She was trying to take his mind off the dream; he was apologizing for waking her.  Jack could tell that from the sounds he heard, his father was tired and his voice was strained.  He listened more, not wanting to hear, but somehow wanting to know.  They said nothing more about the man, or what he did.  Instead, they started talking about the nun, and some of the things she did.  His mother was telling the story about Sister Rebecca Katherine with the two guns again.  He had heard it already, but Todd had asked her to describe it more.  She did, running her hand through his hair, and still holding him to her.


Blair herself was also wondering if her husband would ever be able to tell her exactly what he meant.  In all of his bouts with nightmares and memories, he'd never come right out and explained everything.  She had seen, first hand, the cutting ritual that Leona had performed.  She shuddered just thinking of it.  Todd felt it, and said, "What's the matter?  Are you cold?"


"Maybe a little," she lied.  He pulled the blanket up around them, and covered her, protectively.  She thought of what else he might not be telling her, and she hoped her supposition was wrong.


He said, "Thanks."


"Don't thank me, you saved my life.  And my little baby."


"Our little baby."


"Our little baby.  You're my hero, Todd.  You're a hero to the boys, too.  And Starr.  They all love you."


"I know they do.  Sometimes I think I don't deserve them."


"You do."


"Sometimes I think...I think that I deserve everything he did to me."


"No.  You just feel that way because you carry so much guilt around.  It's like a medal to you"


"I am guilty."


"You're sorry, it's over.  It's behind you.  You've been forgiven."


"I can't feel it.  I know it, I hear it, but I can't feel it.  The things I've done, I deserve done to me.  That's how I think sometimes.  The things Peter did, the things Leona did..."


Jack swallowed down his own throw-up that was crawling it's way into his mouth.  He couldn't move, they'd hear him, and if he revealed himself, he wasn't sure how they would react.  He decided to wait it out, until they fell asleep, and then creep back to bed.  


"Todd, you don't deserve any of that, because you have made mistakes.  Are you saying that Marty Saybrooke deserved what you did to her because she did terrible things?"


"You can't compare us."


"I can, and I will.  You've surpassed her in the redemption area.  You've been heartfully sorry.  You have to let go.  Soon.  To say you deserved these things Michael Leona did to you, it's not healthy.  You'd better go and see Ray, Todd.  This last bout with that maniac has left you reeling."


"I know.  I thought of that.  Just for the things that....well, that I figured out about the last eight years.  None of it's pretty and the guy was sick."


She looked at him, wanting verification of what she suspected, but didn't ask.  He'll tell me when he wants to.  "I'm here for you, whatever you need."


"Well," he said, turning onto his back and putting his arm out to her.  She snuggled into the crook of it, and rested her head on his chest, "we have to get up early tomorrow.  Big day back at The Sun."  He was confident, relaxed.  He was all right.


"Yeah, we do," she yawned.  "I love you, Mr. Manning."


"I love you, Blair," and he kissed the top of her head.


Their room got silent, and Jack, having waited a few minutes more, got to his feet without making a sound.  He crept back to his room.


In the dark, Jack lay on his back, looking at the ceiling.  In his mind, the questions loomed, and his father's pain swarmed inside him like trapped bees.  He couldn't sleep, and instead, he wanted a drink, badly.  He knew there wasn't any alcohol in the house that he could get to, but his body ached and his head spun.  He ended up eating a pop-tart, and watching television until dawn.  He'd have to see about getting a bottle of something into the penthouse, in case he needed it.


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