Memory of Touch, Chapter Two
So sorry for the delay!
Paget caught up to Brendan at the top of the stairs. He gazed around him in wonder; the entire second floor had been transformed. She watched him studiously avoid looking towards the east wing of the house. It’s not there anymore, honey, she wanted to say. I ripped it out, erased it from existence.
“I rescind my former statement. Delores is not only spinning in her grave, she’s on a tilt-o-whirl!”
His mother looked satisfied with his assessment. “I am my father’s daughter. Change is good.” She grabbed his hand, leading him to his new bedroom. “Come on, you’re at the end of the hall, right next to my room.”
Brendan rolled his eyes. “Mom, you don’t need to babysit me. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will be, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to worry.” She opened the door, revealing a very large suite containing a bed a lot bigger than his own. “You may recall this room, and yes, another place you weren’t allowed. As you can see, Carswell is not hiding in the closet.” The closet door was open, a few clothes hanging inside.
Chuckling, Brendan moved towards the bed. While it looked inviting, it was enormous. “Used to scare the daylights outta me. Is that stairwell still in the closet?”
Paget narrowed her eyes. “What do you think? There’s no way I could get rid of the hidden passages throughout this place. That doesn’t mean you can go traipsing around any time of night.”
Her son rounded his eyes at her in mock innocence. “Me? I would never do such a thing.” Brendan crawled onto the bed. In a matter of minutes, he would be asleep, hopefully not thinking of the past. He thought about the clothes hanging in the closet, and the possibility of the ornate chest of drawers having other clothes just his size.
Carswell entered the room, holding a plastic bag from the hospital, asking what should be done about the clothes Brendan had worn for nearly three days.
“Take them to get cleaned and mend-”
“No.” Brendan sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, thankful he had been sitting; it was likely he would’ve fallen over if that bag came anywhere near him. There was no way he would ever wear those items again. Every detail, every moment was burned into his memory. “Get rid of them,” he gritted, jaw clenched tightly to keep himself in control. He decided resolutely to shove it into a dark, dark room and slam the door. You won’t win.
Distantly, he heard his name, but he couldn’t respond. Brendan watched the plastic bag leave the room. After he was sure it wouldn’t reappear, he closed heavy eyelids. When he opened them again, a blurry face was above him. “Mom?”
“Brendan! I’ve been calling your name - never mind. Let’s get you under the covers.” Paget hesitantly touched his face, trying to ignore the flinch that inevitably came, and the minute tremors in his body. “You’re so pale, sweetie. Get some rest, okay?”
“You gonna tuck me in now?” he asked sleepily, shivering slightly once between the cool sheets. All the warmth seemingly fled his body. Snap out of it, Dean! “Fine. I’ll sleep. But I’m coming down for dinner.”
Paget gave an indulgent smile. “Of course, dear.”
-------------------------
As soon as she reached the bottom stair, Paget pulled out her cell phone. Dialing the only person who could help her deal with her son and his situation, she closed her eyes as the phone rang. On the fourth ring, the sounds of a motor nearly drowned out the voice on the other end.
“Pug! It’s been a while! How are you?” the man shouted over the noise.
“Robert, where are you?”
“I’m fixing the boat finally. What’s up?”
He sounds so cheerful, so happy. I have to tell him. “In the middle of winter? Never mind.” She took a deep breath. “Jacks. Brendan’s over for the weekend,” Paget winced at her gloomy voice.
“What’s wrong?” When she didn’t answer right away, the motor switched off, leaving dead silence. “Tell me what’s going on, Pug.”
She rolled her eyes at the stupid nickname. “Don’t call me that. Look, there’sbeenanincident.”
“Paget,” Robert warned. “If something happened to him...”
“No, no! Well... He’s had a run-in with a telepath.”
Silence. “How did Freya take it?”
That was a surprise. Obviously, Brendan had kept in touch with his father. “Everyone’s a bit upset about it. I didn’t realize what could happen when...” How do I explain this?
“A manipulator?” His voice deepened. Paget knew that tone; her former husband fully understood the situation. She also knew he was planning to do something about it.
“Yes.”
“Is he at least sleeping?”
“Yes. I just got him to bed. I know he should sleep as much as possible, but -”
“I’ll be there by dinner time. No worries, Pug. We’ll get him through this.”
Paget was overwhelmed with relief. Regular criminals and bad guys she could deal with. It was the criminals and bad guys who involved her son in their vendettas she was having a problem with now. “I know, I know. Just - Should I send Carswell to the airport?”
“Don’t worry about it.” There were sounds of movement in the background. “I have a friend who owes me. Make sure the western grounds are clear. See you later, Pug.” With a click, he was gone.
I hate that nickname! she wanted to shout. Replacing the phone in her pocket, Paget wandered toward the kitchen. “Martha, there’ll be one more for dinner.”
-------------------
Four hours later, Brendan woke to near darkness and confusion. The bed he lay in was cold and hard at the left side of his body. He silently wished for the smaller hospital bed just to retain warmth. Curling on his right side, Brendan tried to calm his raging thoughts and reorganized his scattered memories. Distantly, he heard his cell phone beep. Snaking his hand out of the covers, Brendan reached for his phone.
Freya had left several messages for him, probably checking on him. Without listening to the voice mail, he dialed her number. “Hey.”
“Hey! You sound terrible. You okay?”
Brendan noticed his voice was hoarse and quiet. “I’m fine. Just woke up, actually. How are things?”
“You would not believe the thoughts Director Harper had when he came back to the office! I actually had to shut him out.” He could tell she was smiling.
“I bet. What about Michael?”
There was a palpable pause on her end. “He’s been better, but I think he’ll be okay. I’m not so sure about Terri.”
Brendan closed his eyes. Oh, Terri. I wish you didn’t have to go through that. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Everything that happened was all about Larkin.”
“Yeah, I get that, but -”
“Actually, if it wasn’t for you, Larkin may have never come to us.”
“What?” Brendan sat up in bed. This he had to hear.
“You drove the guy totally crazy. I mean he was already there, but you put him ‘round the bend, as they say.”
Vaguely, he remembered an explanation in the hospital, but he was a bit fuzzy now. “All I did was keep him busy while he gave me the worst headache ever.”
“I saw your doors, Brendan. Your sheer imagination is what saved you.”
He couldn’t help but to smile bitterly. “I hid in my own torture chamber. Then, tried to scrape what little sanity I had left to get away. How -”
“Stop it, okay? You did what you needed to survive. I really don’t think I could have done better.”
“What? You? Better than me? Nah.”
She laughed. “You bet, Agent Dean. Hey, where are you?”
“I’m out at Matilda.”
“Matilda?”
Brendan sank down in the bed, feeling warm and sleepy again. “My grandfather called the house that. He thought it had a snooty name before. So it’s Matilda, instead of Marsden Downs, or something like that. It’s an old house built in the thirties, I guess.”
“You’re in a big, old mansion in Long Island, aren’t you?”
“Well...” As much as he wanted to feel embarrassed, Brendan wanted his friend to see the garden maze, and the harbor, and his grandfather’s secret hideout. “I’m in Oyster Bay.”
“Ooh, nice. It’s gotta be freezing out there.”
Brendan glanced out the window to darkening skies. “Yeah, well, I doubt my mother will let me leave my room.”
A pause. “How’s that going?”
“It’s fine. She’s fine. I don’t think she knows what to do with me.” Looking at the ornate ceiling, he smiled. “She totally renovated the place. And I can go into rooms I haven’t seen in twenty years.”
“Did you jump on the settee in the parlor?”
Brendan stopped smiling. “How’d you know there was a settee in the parlor?”
“Oh my God. You mean I’m right?” Freya brayed with laughter. “I was only kidding!”
He settled back down under the covers, and yawned. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want.” Stretching out slowly, he adjusted the phone as he rose. “Well, I’m gonna shower and have dinner. Mom thinks I won’t make it downstairs.”
“Well, just be careful. And call me later, okay?”
“Sure. Later.” After hanging up, Brendan made his way to the bathroom. “This place is bigger than my apartment.”
It wasn’t that he was obsessively clean, but all this sleeping made him more groggy by the time he woke up. A second shower seemed just the thing to loosen muscles and wake him the hell up. “Holy crap!” the agent exclaimed out loud. His reflection even scared him. “No wonder everyone wants to take care of me. I look like I’m about to keel over!”
When he exited the overlarge room, he noticed a chopping sound in the distance. Glancing out the window, he saw a helicopter land on the grounds. In the dim light, Brendan saw a familiar person ducking under the artificial wind.
“Dad?”
--------------------
The helicopter took off, blades beating against the cold evening air. Paget leaned against the door frame, watching her former husband cross the frozen lawn. She hadn’t seen him in person for at least three years. They had amicably divorced long ago, but they tried to keep in touch. For Paget, Robert seemed to be the only one who could argue, debate, and just plain fight without losing his temper. Even with his somewhat limited empathic abilities, he did things for her she would never forget, and never tell. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, but he always knew what to say in the perfect tone.
She frowned at the memories. Years later, Paget felt she had been manipulated by everyone, especially Robert. The placating gestures, the soothing tones... the touching. No, she wasn’t a cold woman, but her family wasn’t big on touch. Brendan as a child, like his father, wanted a soothing touch. At least, up until that day. The judge thought her son had the same abilities as his father, knowing exactly what to say and when to say it. Turned out, Brendan had memorized everything said and written down, just so he wouldn’t upset her.
When she and Robert divorced, Paget was certain Brendan would go with his father. They were so alike, not only in appearance. But Brendan stayed with her, making her wonder if Robert had done some coaxing with his ability. Insisting she wasn’t paranoid, she tried and failed to get closer to her little boy.
“Hey, kiddo.” Robert stepped up to her, large hands heavy on her shoulders, smile always at the ready. “I missed you.”
Paget felt herself coloring under his gaze. It was maddening to know he could still make her feel like a teenager after so many years. “Jacks. Glad you could come.”
Yes. Everything would be just fine now.
--------------------
Brendan made his way slowly down the stairs, expecting to hear yelling - or whispered fighting at the very least. Letting out a breath he didn’t know he held, Brendan walked quietly down the wide, cool hall towards the kitchen. Peeking around the final corner, he spotted his parents embracing each other. When did Dad get so old? he thought suddenly as he watched the man smile.
With a final squeeze and a laugh, Robert released Paget. Clear blue eyes lighted on a shadow lurking at the other end of the kitchen. “Get over here and give your old man a hug,” he said turning fully away from Paget. His son was too far away from him just now, and he needed to touch Brendan, get a clear picture of what he was up against.
Hesitantly, Brendan came forward, lop-sided grin on his face. He stopped just out of reach, warily glancing from one parent to the other. “What are you doin’ here?”
:apprehension/remorse/happiness: Robert closed his eyes against the sudden emotions; it had been a long time since he’d left his shielding down. He hoped this would be for the better. “You kiddin’ me? The Bennett case was all over the news. Had a feeling it was you, so I called in a favor.” :relief/apprehension/love: came from Paget. There is way too much anxiety in the two most important people in my life!
“I see.” :skeptical/cautious/weary: “In that case, glad you’re here.” Brendan offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and his hand for Robert to take. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hug his father, but he needed to know exactly what was going on. And touching right now wasn’t on his list.
Robert took the proffered hand, studying his son’s face. He immediately wished he had Freya’s power of telepathy. Taking note of the bony wrist sticking out of the long sleeve, Robert looked closely at Brendan. :hurt/weary/hungry: Something isn’t right, and it’s hiding behind his eyes. “Let’s eat! I’m starved. Looks like you could use a few meals, son.”
“Jacks!” :fear/dread/amusement:
“What? I’m just saying... Listen, kid, you’ll be fine. You remember what I taught you, right?” Robert moved to place his arm around Brendan’s shoulders; his son flinched. :sadness/dread/cold:
“Yes, I do.” A shadow had passed over Brendan’s face.
Robert Dean frowned at this new situation. I’ll get to the bottom of this. One of them is talking, whether they like it or not.
-----------------------
TBC
Not exactly happy with this chapter. Nevertheless, the players are on the board. Let the games begin!
Paget caught up to Brendan at the top of the stairs. He gazed around him in wonder; the entire second floor had been transformed. She watched him studiously avoid looking towards the east wing of the house. It’s not there anymore, honey, she wanted to say. I ripped it out, erased it from existence.
“I rescind my former statement. Delores is not only spinning in her grave, she’s on a tilt-o-whirl!”
His mother looked satisfied with his assessment. “I am my father’s daughter. Change is good.” She grabbed his hand, leading him to his new bedroom. “Come on, you’re at the end of the hall, right next to my room.”
Brendan rolled his eyes. “Mom, you don’t need to babysit me. I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will be, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to worry.” She opened the door, revealing a very large suite containing a bed a lot bigger than his own. “You may recall this room, and yes, another place you weren’t allowed. As you can see, Carswell is not hiding in the closet.” The closet door was open, a few clothes hanging inside.
Chuckling, Brendan moved towards the bed. While it looked inviting, it was enormous. “Used to scare the daylights outta me. Is that stairwell still in the closet?”
Paget narrowed her eyes. “What do you think? There’s no way I could get rid of the hidden passages throughout this place. That doesn’t mean you can go traipsing around any time of night.”
Her son rounded his eyes at her in mock innocence. “Me? I would never do such a thing.” Brendan crawled onto the bed. In a matter of minutes, he would be asleep, hopefully not thinking of the past. He thought about the clothes hanging in the closet, and the possibility of the ornate chest of drawers having other clothes just his size.
Carswell entered the room, holding a plastic bag from the hospital, asking what should be done about the clothes Brendan had worn for nearly three days.
“Take them to get cleaned and mend-”
“No.” Brendan sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, thankful he had been sitting; it was likely he would’ve fallen over if that bag came anywhere near him. There was no way he would ever wear those items again. Every detail, every moment was burned into his memory. “Get rid of them,” he gritted, jaw clenched tightly to keep himself in control. He decided resolutely to shove it into a dark, dark room and slam the door. You won’t win.
Distantly, he heard his name, but he couldn’t respond. Brendan watched the plastic bag leave the room. After he was sure it wouldn’t reappear, he closed heavy eyelids. When he opened them again, a blurry face was above him. “Mom?”
“Brendan! I’ve been calling your name - never mind. Let’s get you under the covers.” Paget hesitantly touched his face, trying to ignore the flinch that inevitably came, and the minute tremors in his body. “You’re so pale, sweetie. Get some rest, okay?”
“You gonna tuck me in now?” he asked sleepily, shivering slightly once between the cool sheets. All the warmth seemingly fled his body. Snap out of it, Dean! “Fine. I’ll sleep. But I’m coming down for dinner.”
Paget gave an indulgent smile. “Of course, dear.”
-------------------------
As soon as she reached the bottom stair, Paget pulled out her cell phone. Dialing the only person who could help her deal with her son and his situation, she closed her eyes as the phone rang. On the fourth ring, the sounds of a motor nearly drowned out the voice on the other end.
“Pug! It’s been a while! How are you?” the man shouted over the noise.
“Robert, where are you?”
“I’m fixing the boat finally. What’s up?”
He sounds so cheerful, so happy. I have to tell him. “In the middle of winter? Never mind.” She took a deep breath. “Jacks. Brendan’s over for the weekend,” Paget winced at her gloomy voice.
“What’s wrong?” When she didn’t answer right away, the motor switched off, leaving dead silence. “Tell me what’s going on, Pug.”
She rolled her eyes at the stupid nickname. “Don’t call me that. Look, there’sbeenanincident.”
“Paget,” Robert warned. “If something happened to him...”
“No, no! Well... He’s had a run-in with a telepath.”
Silence. “How did Freya take it?”
That was a surprise. Obviously, Brendan had kept in touch with his father. “Everyone’s a bit upset about it. I didn’t realize what could happen when...” How do I explain this?
“A manipulator?” His voice deepened. Paget knew that tone; her former husband fully understood the situation. She also knew he was planning to do something about it.
“Yes.”
“Is he at least sleeping?”
“Yes. I just got him to bed. I know he should sleep as much as possible, but -”
“I’ll be there by dinner time. No worries, Pug. We’ll get him through this.”
Paget was overwhelmed with relief. Regular criminals and bad guys she could deal with. It was the criminals and bad guys who involved her son in their vendettas she was having a problem with now. “I know, I know. Just - Should I send Carswell to the airport?”
“Don’t worry about it.” There were sounds of movement in the background. “I have a friend who owes me. Make sure the western grounds are clear. See you later, Pug.” With a click, he was gone.
I hate that nickname! she wanted to shout. Replacing the phone in her pocket, Paget wandered toward the kitchen. “Martha, there’ll be one more for dinner.”
-------------------
Four hours later, Brendan woke to near darkness and confusion. The bed he lay in was cold and hard at the left side of his body. He silently wished for the smaller hospital bed just to retain warmth. Curling on his right side, Brendan tried to calm his raging thoughts and reorganized his scattered memories. Distantly, he heard his cell phone beep. Snaking his hand out of the covers, Brendan reached for his phone.
Freya had left several messages for him, probably checking on him. Without listening to the voice mail, he dialed her number. “Hey.”
“Hey! You sound terrible. You okay?”
Brendan noticed his voice was hoarse and quiet. “I’m fine. Just woke up, actually. How are things?”
“You would not believe the thoughts Director Harper had when he came back to the office! I actually had to shut him out.” He could tell she was smiling.
“I bet. What about Michael?”
There was a palpable pause on her end. “He’s been better, but I think he’ll be okay. I’m not so sure about Terri.”
Brendan closed his eyes. Oh, Terri. I wish you didn’t have to go through that. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. Everything that happened was all about Larkin.”
“Yeah, I get that, but -”
“Actually, if it wasn’t for you, Larkin may have never come to us.”
“What?” Brendan sat up in bed. This he had to hear.
“You drove the guy totally crazy. I mean he was already there, but you put him ‘round the bend, as they say.”
Vaguely, he remembered an explanation in the hospital, but he was a bit fuzzy now. “All I did was keep him busy while he gave me the worst headache ever.”
“I saw your doors, Brendan. Your sheer imagination is what saved you.”
He couldn’t help but to smile bitterly. “I hid in my own torture chamber. Then, tried to scrape what little sanity I had left to get away. How -”
“Stop it, okay? You did what you needed to survive. I really don’t think I could have done better.”
“What? You? Better than me? Nah.”
She laughed. “You bet, Agent Dean. Hey, where are you?”
“I’m out at Matilda.”
“Matilda?”
Brendan sank down in the bed, feeling warm and sleepy again. “My grandfather called the house that. He thought it had a snooty name before. So it’s Matilda, instead of Marsden Downs, or something like that. It’s an old house built in the thirties, I guess.”
“You’re in a big, old mansion in Long Island, aren’t you?”
“Well...” As much as he wanted to feel embarrassed, Brendan wanted his friend to see the garden maze, and the harbor, and his grandfather’s secret hideout. “I’m in Oyster Bay.”
“Ooh, nice. It’s gotta be freezing out there.”
Brendan glanced out the window to darkening skies. “Yeah, well, I doubt my mother will let me leave my room.”
A pause. “How’s that going?”
“It’s fine. She’s fine. I don’t think she knows what to do with me.” Looking at the ornate ceiling, he smiled. “She totally renovated the place. And I can go into rooms I haven’t seen in twenty years.”
“Did you jump on the settee in the parlor?”
Brendan stopped smiling. “How’d you know there was a settee in the parlor?”
“Oh my God. You mean I’m right?” Freya brayed with laughter. “I was only kidding!”
He settled back down under the covers, and yawned. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh all you want.” Stretching out slowly, he adjusted the phone as he rose. “Well, I’m gonna shower and have dinner. Mom thinks I won’t make it downstairs.”
“Well, just be careful. And call me later, okay?”
“Sure. Later.” After hanging up, Brendan made his way to the bathroom. “This place is bigger than my apartment.”
It wasn’t that he was obsessively clean, but all this sleeping made him more groggy by the time he woke up. A second shower seemed just the thing to loosen muscles and wake him the hell up. “Holy crap!” the agent exclaimed out loud. His reflection even scared him. “No wonder everyone wants to take care of me. I look like I’m about to keel over!”
When he exited the overlarge room, he noticed a chopping sound in the distance. Glancing out the window, he saw a helicopter land on the grounds. In the dim light, Brendan saw a familiar person ducking under the artificial wind.
“Dad?”
--------------------
The helicopter took off, blades beating against the cold evening air. Paget leaned against the door frame, watching her former husband cross the frozen lawn. She hadn’t seen him in person for at least three years. They had amicably divorced long ago, but they tried to keep in touch. For Paget, Robert seemed to be the only one who could argue, debate, and just plain fight without losing his temper. Even with his somewhat limited empathic abilities, he did things for her she would never forget, and never tell. Maybe it was wishful thinking on her part, but he always knew what to say in the perfect tone.
She frowned at the memories. Years later, Paget felt she had been manipulated by everyone, especially Robert. The placating gestures, the soothing tones... the touching. No, she wasn’t a cold woman, but her family wasn’t big on touch. Brendan as a child, like his father, wanted a soothing touch. At least, up until that day. The judge thought her son had the same abilities as his father, knowing exactly what to say and when to say it. Turned out, Brendan had memorized everything said and written down, just so he wouldn’t upset her.
When she and Robert divorced, Paget was certain Brendan would go with his father. They were so alike, not only in appearance. But Brendan stayed with her, making her wonder if Robert had done some coaxing with his ability. Insisting she wasn’t paranoid, she tried and failed to get closer to her little boy.
“Hey, kiddo.” Robert stepped up to her, large hands heavy on her shoulders, smile always at the ready. “I missed you.”
Paget felt herself coloring under his gaze. It was maddening to know he could still make her feel like a teenager after so many years. “Jacks. Glad you could come.”
Yes. Everything would be just fine now.
--------------------
Brendan made his way slowly down the stairs, expecting to hear yelling - or whispered fighting at the very least. Letting out a breath he didn’t know he held, Brendan walked quietly down the wide, cool hall towards the kitchen. Peeking around the final corner, he spotted his parents embracing each other. When did Dad get so old? he thought suddenly as he watched the man smile.
With a final squeeze and a laugh, Robert released Paget. Clear blue eyes lighted on a shadow lurking at the other end of the kitchen. “Get over here and give your old man a hug,” he said turning fully away from Paget. His son was too far away from him just now, and he needed to touch Brendan, get a clear picture of what he was up against.
Hesitantly, Brendan came forward, lop-sided grin on his face. He stopped just out of reach, warily glancing from one parent to the other. “What are you doin’ here?”
:apprehension/remorse/happiness: Robert closed his eyes against the sudden emotions; it had been a long time since he’d left his shielding down. He hoped this would be for the better. “You kiddin’ me? The Bennett case was all over the news. Had a feeling it was you, so I called in a favor.” :relief/apprehension/love: came from Paget. There is way too much anxiety in the two most important people in my life!
“I see.” :skeptical/cautious/weary: “In that case, glad you’re here.” Brendan offered a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and his hand for Robert to take. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to hug his father, but he needed to know exactly what was going on. And touching right now wasn’t on his list.
Robert took the proffered hand, studying his son’s face. He immediately wished he had Freya’s power of telepathy. Taking note of the bony wrist sticking out of the long sleeve, Robert looked closely at Brendan. :hurt/weary/hungry: Something isn’t right, and it’s hiding behind his eyes. “Let’s eat! I’m starved. Looks like you could use a few meals, son.”
“Jacks!” :fear/dread/amusement:
“What? I’m just saying... Listen, kid, you’ll be fine. You remember what I taught you, right?” Robert moved to place his arm around Brendan’s shoulders; his son flinched. :sadness/dread/cold:
“Yes, I do.” A shadow had passed over Brendan’s face.
Robert Dean frowned at this new situation. I’ll get to the bottom of this. One of them is talking, whether they like it or not.
-----------------------
TBC
Not exactly happy with this chapter. Nevertheless, the players are on the board. Let the games begin!