Chasing the Monsters: 13 (adult)

He stroked her hair, his eyes staring into hers as she moaned his name in pleasure.  She whispered, "yes," softly.  He kissed her, fighting the feeling to let go, then felt her hands move to his bottom.  She was pulling him closer inside her, and he felt himself twitch before taking another long, slow stroke.  It led to another, and another, and perching himself higher over her, he went to work, bringing her to where he knew she longed to be.  She called his name, and wrapped her legs around him tightly as she came.  Though he tried to hold back, the sounds of her voice, crying out to him, and the sensations in his core pushed him over into a spray of color in his mind's eye as he released.  He shuddered and groaned, his hand still tangled in her long hair, at the back of her head, and he pulled her into an embrace.  Rolling, he went to his back, and she slid off him, parking herself along side him, half on his chest.  She felt his stomach jolt slightly, when she rested her hand there, tracing the line of hair from his bellybutton downward.  She said, "My husband."

"My wife," he whispered.

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"Loving me, and us."

"You're welcome.  Same."

After a few moments of quiet, she said, "I had an interesting day."

He side-eyed her.  "Yeah?"

"Mmm, hmm."

"Tina?"

"Yep."

"What now?"

"Well, she was here, telling me about Cord."

"Cord?"

"Yeah, he came all the way home to see her because he heard about Aiden."

Todd was quiet a minute.   "Remind me to tell you something."

"Okay.  Anyway, he came to comfort her, I guess, but she was upset because he has a young cowgirl in his life, something like this. Anyway, she wanted to know if Cord had left town, and she got me to call Bo about it."

He raised an eyebrow.  "She did, huh?"

"Yep.  I guess, well, there was talk of him being her white knight, or something."

"Not your type," he said, surprising her.

"No, not at all.  Anyway, I called Bo.  He's still in town, and Tina wanted to apologize for pushing him too far."

"Pushing him?  That's Tina."

"No, she literally pushed him.  He fell.  She wanted to apologize for that."

Todd laughed.  "What?"

She said, "Over the ottoman.  I guess he limped out."

Todd laughed more, and Blair slowly joined in.  "You've got to be kidding?"

"No," she said between laughs, and she covered her mouth with her hand and leaned against his warm chest in the darkness.

Their laughter was interrupted by a piercing scream coming from another room.

***

It was dark and late.  She had almost finished the painting, and her hands pushed her forward to keep going.  Her eyes strained in the low lighting.  She flicked on another lamp.

"Hey, Miss, are you goin' to bed soon?  Lights out around here, and I have to clean, don't want to disturb you too much," Clyde said.

"I'll go soon, Clyde.  I am getting tired."  Bitsy said.

He came closer, and she didn't flinch.  He studied the painting.  "So real."

"Thank you."

"Who's that man?"

"Just a man," she said, standing back from it.  She admired the way she had made him stand out from the background.

"It's real good, Miss.  Nice art."

"Thank you, again."

"He looks . . . fierce."

"Yes, you could say that."

"Sort of commandin' or somethin.'"

She sighed, "Then it's working."

"Why are all those people in the front of the painting looking at him that way?  They're lookin' crazy."

"Maybe they are," she said, and began to wipe her hands on her artist apron.  Todd had outfitted her with everything she could possibly need for her art, and her collection had grown.  She said, "Will you help me?"

"Sure," he said.

"Just bring this painting, over there and hide it behind that bureau for me?  Careful, it's wet."

He did as she asked.  "There," he said.

"Thank you, Clyde.  Night."

"Night, Miss."  He headed out to the hall.  "Miss, you don't seem like you belong here anymore."

"Maybe.  Night."

***

Todd threw the sheet off himself, and literally jumped into his lounge pants faster than Blair sat up.  "Sam," she said, and she scrambled in the dark, as well, to get her nightie on, and by the time she was standing, he was already at his son's bedside.

Todd was almost scared himself when he saw Sam, sitting in the dark, clutching his Spiderman doll and rocking.  He was muttering, "No, no, no, Dad, Mom, no," under his breath.  This was between harried sucks of air.  

Todd hadn't even turned the light on, he just went right to the bed and sat next to his son, and pulled him close. But the surprise came when Sam fought against him and pulled away, continuing to mutter.  He tried again, this time, petting Sam's head, and gently leaning him toward the safety of his arm and chest and Sam relented.  Instead of mumbling, he broke into sobs against his father.  "Dad.  Dad."

Blair got to the door just then, and Sam looked up in the dark to her.  "Mom."  All was said between wracking sobs and too-much breathing.

"Hey, Daddy's here, and Mommy,"  She sat on the other side of her son.  He was clinging to Todd now, tightly, and she began to rub his back and try and calm him.  "What happened, Honey?"

"I . . . can't . . . talk . . . about it," he said, barely able to say the words.

"Shh.  You don't have to."  Blair said, stroking his head, and she noticed his glasses were on his face, but crooked.  "Why are you sleeping with your glasses on, Sam?  You never do that?"

"I . . . don't want to go to sleep, so I read my comics and fall asleep, I guess."

She noticed as her eyes adjusted to the dark, a stack of comic books next to the bed, and one was ajar on the floor.  His laptop was open, on the floor, as well.

Sam looked up, "Dad, please, Dad don't go to Chicago anymore.  That's where Peter's ghost is, Dad, and he'll get you, and he'll take you in the ground."

Todd's throat worked.  In his mind, the metaphor was startling.  He said, "No, his old wrinkly ghost is no match for me.  I'm young, fit, and totally badass."

Sam smiled slightly.  Then he said, "But Dad, he'll take you underground.  He'll drag you under the ground with him."

Blair said, "That was a dream, Sam.  That's not real.  Was that what your nightmare was about?"

Sam slowly nodded, and turned back to his father.  "Please, Dad?"

"I can't promise you something like that, Sam," Todd said, thinking better of it, though he was in no rush to get back to Chicago himself.  "I might have to go there someday.  I might have to go on business trips other places sometimes.  I can't promise that, but I can promise that I won't leave you and your mom; I'll always come back."

"And Jewel, and Jack, and Ray?"

"Right.  I'll do everything in my power to be with you all, until the day I get old and pass away."

His face crinkled.  "No.  I don't want you to pass away."

"Well, that's a long while off.  Everyone has to.  You know that."

"I still don't want you to."

"Don't worry about that.  We're together, and I've got ya, Buddy."  Todd pulled him a little closer, then pretended to give Sam a noogie in the blackness.  He felt his son relax a little, and within minutes of Todd's strong arm around him, and Blair caressing his back, he fell into sleep.

She said, "He's exhausted, Todd."

"I know."  His face, in the dark, showed lines of concern.  He leaned over and kissed his son's cheek.

They walked into the hallway, and he said, "Tell me again how I don't ruin people?"

"Stop," she whispered.  "You're not Peter, what he did is what he did.  But Todd, there's something else, it's bothering me, something . . . Oh . . . God," she said, and suddenly she had lost her composure, and was shaking like a leaf in the wind in front of him, and wringing her hands.

"What's the matter?" he said, steadying her, with his hand.

"I . . . oh why didn't I remember this, my God, I'm so scared, I can't even say it," and as her mind raced, she felt panic overtaking her, and almost went to her knees.

Todd caught her, and said, "Hey, hey, what's this?  Come on, let's go in the bedroom," he said, and as he helped her and leaned her against him, her shaking was evident in every muscle of her body.

By the time he got her to the bed, and sat her down, she was crying.  "Oh, Todd, I'm so stupid.  A bad mother."

"No, Babe, come on.  What's this about?"  he pulled her toward him until her head rested on his shoulder.

"Sam, I think, when we thought . . . when Peter was Malcolm, and he was the gardener . . . Oh Todd, I can't . . ." she broke into weeping.  Her shaking was so strong he couldn't make it stop with his soothing.

In the dark, he let the words she had said sink in to his mind, and a feeling of utter disgust came over him, so much so that he had to let go of her and struggle to make it to the bathroom.  She could hear him retching into the toilet, and her instincts to nurture him took over.  She got up and went in, and saw him, sitting against the hot tub, his knees bent up, his wrists balanced on his knees.  He looked up at her.  "I'm sorry, I just felt sick all the sudden."  His eyes were stricken.

She sat beside him on the cold tile floor.  Unable to stop herself, she rocked slightly, her knees tucked up against her chest, and her chin resting on them.  He saw her fighting not to break down, and came back to life, taking her to him and saying, "It's going to be all right," and holding her, and she gave in to the pain in her chest and cried.

He fought his own sadness and fear, holding her, and tried to remain strong for her.  Inside, his stomach was burning and sour, and his heart was beating almost out of his chest.  Finally, he said, "Blair, what happened to Sam?"

She took a long breath.  "I don't know," and returned to crying.

"What did Sam say?"  

She sucked in a few breaths, and said, "He said 'Malcolm' was weird."

"Weird?"  His alarm was evident in his voice.  

He did say that.  He said it when he was in the hospital, to me . . .

"Yes.  I'm . . . what kind of mother am I?  I didn't even ASK him about it."

He shushed her, gently, and knew that she just didn't want to know, and he instantly understood.  "You did nothing wrong.  If I'm not to blame, for what Peter did to the kids, then you're not in any way to blame for not asking."

She attempted to reel in the crying, and tipped her head back up.  "He . . . said the guy was weird.  He told Jack, and Shaun, but never told me, until he was . . . at the hospital, when he couldn't talk. . ."

He cut her off, "He called him the weird guy.  I remember.  And on the phone, you told me something about that . . ."

"He told Jack and Shaun about it, once, I think.  Shaun went and threatened Peter, saying that he was going to take care of the family, and that you'd want that; that he would protect us at any cost."

"And he almost died doing that."

"Yes," she said, fading off into tears.  "Todd, what if . . . oh, no, no," she said, crying again, this time into her hands.

He hugged her to him again, and his own tears fell.  Inside, he feared with a terror greater than any other he remembered: that Peter had gotten to Sam, the way he had gotten to him.  It was a fear stronger than the one he felt when Leona came toward him with a blade, stronger than the one he felt when Peter brought out his lighter, and stronger than his fear of losing them.  He was surprised by its potency.  For a moment, he was gone in memory, and then, he was stirred from it by the sound of Blair rasping and trying to catch her breath.  He said, "No, that didn't happen.  He would tell us."

"What if he couldn't remember, Todd, like you?"

His voice strengthened.  "He would tell us, Blair.  He remembers everything about the day he hid in the snow pile.  He recited it in vivid detail for me just the other day.  He's emotionally healthy enough, thanks to you, to be able to talk about this stuff.  I don't think he's the type of kid who blocks stuff out. He would have told us by now, or Ray, or someone.  Remember, about Zeus?  He held it in, but he knew.  It took him time to talk about it, but he remembered."

"Todd, let's wake Jack, please?  Maybe he knows something."

He looked at the moon through the skylight, and said, "It's probably only about midnight.  Why not?"

They both started to get up, and when he got to his feet, he swayed slightly and felt another surge of queasiness in his gut.  He ignored it and helped her the rest of the way off the floor, before saying, "We can't."

"Why?" she said, and he could see she was in the throes of desperation.

"We can't put that thought in Jack's head.  He has too much guilt already."

"Shaun, then?"

"Sure.  Shaun," he said, going to the bedroom and getting into more clothing.

She said, "The kids, should I . . ."

"Stay here.  I'll go and talk to him."  

He was out of the back doors before she sat back down.

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