Painted Air
Title: Painted Air
Rating: K+
Series: Jones
Characters: Adam Kane; Terrence Jones; Bella Lemont; Parker Jones
Prompt: 100 themes - 076 - Broken Pieces; 035 - Hold My Hand; 083 - Heal
Claimer: Mostly mine. But shared with SuperSpecialAwesome!Lori.
Authors Note: Three connected shorts, Adam-centric, and set shortly after Bella's death. Mentions of the Jeanette family
EDIT: The song "Colorblind" by Counting Crows wasn't released until '99. This is set in early '92. But it's the only song I can get to fit, so, sorry about the inaccuracy.
There’s an empty bottle of wine on the floor beside the bed, and there’s broken glass on floor by the desk. The acoustic guitar in his hand is sorrowful and paints the air shades of grey and black and blue and red, and his voice is hollow and broken as he sings along to himself. “I am folded...”
There’s a silver framed photograph on his bedside table, and an attractive young woman with dark hair and dark eyes smiles out at the opposite wall, and there’s a small doll with spiky brown hair beside that. The phone is disconnected, and his guitar is painting the air in shades of grey and black and blue and red. “And unfolded...”
There’s a crate full of empty beer bottles outside his bedroom door, and there’s broken glass on the floor by the desk. “And unfolding...”
“I am colourblind.”
There’s a hand grasping at the hem of his shirt, so Adam looks down, and Parker looks up. Against a setting of broken glass and stains, with air so heavy it sticks like treacle, so depressing you can feel the emotions breathed into it, cigarette smoke drifts lazily around the ceiling, and the smoke alarm is broken and silent where it clings to the not-so-white ceiling. And Parker Jones is staring hard at Adam Kane, who is staring back with watery, unseeing eyes.
“Adam,” Parker repeats insistently, loudly, and a thought flickers to the front of Adam’s mind, remaining unnoticed despite it’s best efforts: I am not deaf or dumb, Parky. “Adam, you’re going to come with me, alright?”
“Am I?” Adam says after a moment of eyebrow furrowing concentration.
“Yes,” Parker says in a much gentler voice. “Yes, Adam, you’re going to come with me today.”
“Heh,” Adam chuckles as Parker softly pulls him down to sit on the edge of the bed. The cigarette in his hand wobbles ungracefully. “Why’m I going with you again, Parky?”
Parker lets the nickname slide right over his head, and even the Other Parker is silent and solemn. “Because Bella wants you to come stay with us, Adam. Bella says you must come.”
Adam’s eyebrows furrow again as he tries to process this, and again a thought pushes it’s way through the haze, jumping and waving and screaming in the forefront of his mind: Bella is gone! Gone! Parker, seeing his worried and hesitant expression, touches his knee sympathetically before delving into the cupboard and pulling out the crumpled backpack from the bottom shelf. He begins sifting through the clothing on the shelves he can reach, pulling items out at random and tossing them carelessly into the open bag.
“But, Bella...” Adam begins, trying to grab at the thought, coming away instead with fistfuls of smoke and nothing. “Bella is... Is...”
Parker, looking very nearly worried, clicks the cupboard door shut and struggles with the zipper on the backpack before pressing it into Adam’s hands. “Bella is asking for you, Adam. Here put this on. That’s right,” he says soothingly in the face of Adam’s crumpled, tormented expression as he slides the bag straps over his shoulders. His cigarette falls forgotten to the floor where it dies quietly in a cloud of smoke. “That’s right, very good. Now, Adam, stand up. Bella wants you to stand up.”
“Bella,” Adam says to himself, obediently getting to his feet.
“Good, good,” Parker murmurs absently, glancing around the room one, twice, three times, before hefting up the guitar from where it lays slumped on the floor, and after a short struggle straps it to his back. “Now, come on Adam, we’re going to walk to the front door now, okay?”
“Yes.” And he drags his feet after Parker towards the front door, where Parker tells him to sit down again.
“Put your boots on, Adam. Bella likes those boots, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.” And he thoughtfully pulls his boots on, getting carefully to his feet and stepping into the warm sunshine when Parker tells him to do so. He squints in the light as Parker pulls the door shut and turns the key. Yet another thought tries to catch his attention, again failing to penetrate: where’d Parker get the key?
“Alright then. Let’s go, okay?”
“Yes, Parky.” Adam nods dutifully.
“Hold my hand, okay?” Parker says after a moment, watching from the top of the steps as Adam carefully navigates his way down them to stand on the driveway. “And be sure you don’t let go. Okay, Adam?”
Adam follows Parker with his eyes as he too walks down the stairs, and for a moment he is his mother. He gives the hand demanded for and smiles. “Yes, Bella.”
Parker doesn’t cry until Adam has been delivered into a surprised and anguished Terrence’s arms, until he has been washed and shaved and hugged and fed and changed and gently, lovingly placed to bed. It’s then he cries, long and hard, curled in his father’s lap, his father who is also crying for the first time Parker can remember.
Even the Other Parker has the decency to stay silent.
The first day with Adam living in the Jones household was a quiet one. The first thing that happened was that, before Adam woke up, Terrence passed all the alcohol out of the top cupboard and down to Parker, who carefully placed everything into several crates on the kitchen floor. Terrence carried them out to the shed when they were finished, and silent locked the door. Neither of them spoke of it again, although each caught the other looking longingly towards the pot with the keys in it later on when Adam began to cry pitifully, curled in on himself.
On the fourth day Jane turned up at the back door, purring and meowing, with a dead bird in her mouth which she proudly deposited at Adam’s feet before jumping into his lap and curling up and radiating attitude of I’m Not Moving. Adam didn’t seem to mind, absently stroking her ginger fur and scratching at the spot behind her ear that made her purr like his bike with a full tank of petrol and a new muffler. Other Parker mentioned something about the river being full of frogs. Parker ignored him, and instead held his arms out silently for Terrence to drape the dry washing over.
On the ninth day, Parker kissed Adam goodbye on the cheek before strapping on his helmet and running off towards the back of the yard, ducking under the fence with his skateboard under his arm, running up and over the crest of the hill towards the Jeanette house. He and Dee were going to show Wolfgang how to ride a skateboard. Terrence was called in for an emergency at the cemetery: one of the grave diggers didn’t show up, and a reverend conducting a service fell into another hole. Adam took another shower, shaved himself and fetched his bike. Jane was pleased to have her seat back.
On the twelfth day, Adam made dinner. Parker bought home a homework sheet with a smiling sticker on the corner and a red-pen comment accompaniment. Terrence complained about the Wednesday blues. A half full bucket of chocolate ice-cream was found in the bottom of the freezer, and as they sat on the back porch armed with a spoon each, Adam played his guitar and studded the night with the sounds of Santana, painting the air in shades of green and red and blue and gold. On the wall inside, a green framed snapshot of an attractive young woman with dark hair and dark eyes stared unseeing. Beside the green framed photograph, an attractive young woman with dark hair and dark eyes looked out at the three men beneath the clear sky, jaded with stars, and smiled to herself.
Rating: K+
Series: Jones
Characters: Adam Kane; Terrence Jones; Bella Lemont; Parker Jones
Prompt: 100 themes - 076 - Broken Pieces; 035 - Hold My Hand; 083 - Heal
Claimer: Mostly mine. But shared with SuperSpecialAwesome!Lori.
Authors Note: Three connected shorts, Adam-centric, and set shortly after Bella's death. Mentions of the Jeanette family
EDIT: The song "Colorblind" by Counting Crows wasn't released until '99. This is set in early '92. But it's the only song I can get to fit, so, sorry about the inaccuracy.
There’s an empty bottle of wine on the floor beside the bed, and there’s broken glass on floor by the desk. The acoustic guitar in his hand is sorrowful and paints the air shades of grey and black and blue and red, and his voice is hollow and broken as he sings along to himself. “I am folded...”
There’s a silver framed photograph on his bedside table, and an attractive young woman with dark hair and dark eyes smiles out at the opposite wall, and there’s a small doll with spiky brown hair beside that. The phone is disconnected, and his guitar is painting the air in shades of grey and black and blue and red. “And unfolded...”
There’s a crate full of empty beer bottles outside his bedroom door, and there’s broken glass on the floor by the desk. “And unfolding...”
“I am colourblind.”
There’s a hand grasping at the hem of his shirt, so Adam looks down, and Parker looks up. Against a setting of broken glass and stains, with air so heavy it sticks like treacle, so depressing you can feel the emotions breathed into it, cigarette smoke drifts lazily around the ceiling, and the smoke alarm is broken and silent where it clings to the not-so-white ceiling. And Parker Jones is staring hard at Adam Kane, who is staring back with watery, unseeing eyes.
“Adam,” Parker repeats insistently, loudly, and a thought flickers to the front of Adam’s mind, remaining unnoticed despite it’s best efforts: I am not deaf or dumb, Parky. “Adam, you’re going to come with me, alright?”
“Am I?” Adam says after a moment of eyebrow furrowing concentration.
“Yes,” Parker says in a much gentler voice. “Yes, Adam, you’re going to come with me today.”
“Heh,” Adam chuckles as Parker softly pulls him down to sit on the edge of the bed. The cigarette in his hand wobbles ungracefully. “Why’m I going with you again, Parky?”
Parker lets the nickname slide right over his head, and even the Other Parker is silent and solemn. “Because Bella wants you to come stay with us, Adam. Bella says you must come.”
Adam’s eyebrows furrow again as he tries to process this, and again a thought pushes it’s way through the haze, jumping and waving and screaming in the forefront of his mind: Bella is gone! Gone! Parker, seeing his worried and hesitant expression, touches his knee sympathetically before delving into the cupboard and pulling out the crumpled backpack from the bottom shelf. He begins sifting through the clothing on the shelves he can reach, pulling items out at random and tossing them carelessly into the open bag.
“But, Bella...” Adam begins, trying to grab at the thought, coming away instead with fistfuls of smoke and nothing. “Bella is... Is...”
Parker, looking very nearly worried, clicks the cupboard door shut and struggles with the zipper on the backpack before pressing it into Adam’s hands. “Bella is asking for you, Adam. Here put this on. That’s right,” he says soothingly in the face of Adam’s crumpled, tormented expression as he slides the bag straps over his shoulders. His cigarette falls forgotten to the floor where it dies quietly in a cloud of smoke. “That’s right, very good. Now, Adam, stand up. Bella wants you to stand up.”
“Bella,” Adam says to himself, obediently getting to his feet.
“Good, good,” Parker murmurs absently, glancing around the room one, twice, three times, before hefting up the guitar from where it lays slumped on the floor, and after a short struggle straps it to his back. “Now, come on Adam, we’re going to walk to the front door now, okay?”
“Yes.” And he drags his feet after Parker towards the front door, where Parker tells him to sit down again.
“Put your boots on, Adam. Bella likes those boots, doesn’t she?”
“Yes.” And he thoughtfully pulls his boots on, getting carefully to his feet and stepping into the warm sunshine when Parker tells him to do so. He squints in the light as Parker pulls the door shut and turns the key. Yet another thought tries to catch his attention, again failing to penetrate: where’d Parker get the key?
“Alright then. Let’s go, okay?”
“Yes, Parky.” Adam nods dutifully.
“Hold my hand, okay?” Parker says after a moment, watching from the top of the steps as Adam carefully navigates his way down them to stand on the driveway. “And be sure you don’t let go. Okay, Adam?”
Adam follows Parker with his eyes as he too walks down the stairs, and for a moment he is his mother. He gives the hand demanded for and smiles. “Yes, Bella.”
Parker doesn’t cry until Adam has been delivered into a surprised and anguished Terrence’s arms, until he has been washed and shaved and hugged and fed and changed and gently, lovingly placed to bed. It’s then he cries, long and hard, curled in his father’s lap, his father who is also crying for the first time Parker can remember.
Even the Other Parker has the decency to stay silent.
The first day with Adam living in the Jones household was a quiet one. The first thing that happened was that, before Adam woke up, Terrence passed all the alcohol out of the top cupboard and down to Parker, who carefully placed everything into several crates on the kitchen floor. Terrence carried them out to the shed when they were finished, and silent locked the door. Neither of them spoke of it again, although each caught the other looking longingly towards the pot with the keys in it later on when Adam began to cry pitifully, curled in on himself.
On the fourth day Jane turned up at the back door, purring and meowing, with a dead bird in her mouth which she proudly deposited at Adam’s feet before jumping into his lap and curling up and radiating attitude of I’m Not Moving. Adam didn’t seem to mind, absently stroking her ginger fur and scratching at the spot behind her ear that made her purr like his bike with a full tank of petrol and a new muffler. Other Parker mentioned something about the river being full of frogs. Parker ignored him, and instead held his arms out silently for Terrence to drape the dry washing over.
On the ninth day, Parker kissed Adam goodbye on the cheek before strapping on his helmet and running off towards the back of the yard, ducking under the fence with his skateboard under his arm, running up and over the crest of the hill towards the Jeanette house. He and Dee were going to show Wolfgang how to ride a skateboard. Terrence was called in for an emergency at the cemetery: one of the grave diggers didn’t show up, and a reverend conducting a service fell into another hole. Adam took another shower, shaved himself and fetched his bike. Jane was pleased to have her seat back.
On the twelfth day, Adam made dinner. Parker bought home a homework sheet with a smiling sticker on the corner and a red-pen comment accompaniment. Terrence complained about the Wednesday blues. A half full bucket of chocolate ice-cream was found in the bottom of the freezer, and as they sat on the back porch armed with a spoon each, Adam played his guitar and studded the night with the sounds of Santana, painting the air in shades of green and red and blue and gold. On the wall inside, a green framed snapshot of an attractive young woman with dark hair and dark eyes stared unseeing. Beside the green framed photograph, an attractive young woman with dark hair and dark eyes looked out at the three men beneath the clear sky, jaded with stars, and smiled to herself.