Wish #9 for graiae
By trillingstar for graiae
Wish 9
Request 2:
Pairing/Character(s): Holly Beecher
Keyword/Prompt Phrase: Self-defense class.
Canon/AU/Either: Either
Special Requests: Crossovers are always welcome but unnecessary
Story/Art/Either: Story
Title: Guardian
Guardian
Victoria's worried about Holly. Of course she is. It's been eighteen days since the FBI reunited the Beechers with their granddaughter, and Holly hasn't spoken a word. She'll follow instructions, coming when her name is called. She'll sit down at the dinner table after being waved over. Sometimes she'll half-smile when Harrison makes a funny face, and her eyes lit up with joy when Marnie served thick slices of chocolate cake for dessert last night.
She also moans in her sleep before wetting the bed, and she'll only fall asleep once the sedative takes effect. Lights blaze in Holly's suite, both at night and on overcast days when the sky swells with rain clouds. Victoria sits in the cushioned chair long after she's done reading Holly a bedtime story, concentrating on the tangle of curls in her granddaughter's hair, the rise and fall of her chest. Anything to keep from noticing the way Holly clutches her stuffed tiger with slim fingers on pale, small hands.
"More tea, Mrs. Beecher?" Their housekeeper is holding a round wooden tray and the white ruffle on her apron looks suddenly silly and ostentatious. Victoria wants to tell her to take it off. Instead she nods and accepts the proffered cup and saucer.
"Thank you, Marnie," she replies.
Steam rises from the hot liquid and Victoria breathes in the smell of orange and spices. "Thank you," she says again.
Marnie nods. "My famous not so secret recipe," she whispers, and Victoria lets out a tiny snort of laughter. Marnie's idea of comfort has always been a generous shot of whiskey, used to soothe everything from a headache to a long day of travel visiting Toby to -- Toby. The thought of her son cuts off the laugh abruptly.
She'd tried to tell him that Holly was, as Angus put it, a mess. She told him on the phone and he ignored her. She told him in person and he squeezed her hand tighter but didn't respond. She can hear his thoughts just by looking at his face.
My son, my son. My baby.
There's no room left in his head for Holly.
***
Eighteen days, and then Holly's first word is 'help.'
Victoria's hand trembles, and her tea sloshes against the mouth of the teacup. She lowers her arm slowly, but the rattle of ceramic when it touches the saucer is loud against the silent backdrop of the spacious living room.
She takes a deep breath, holds it, then takes another. Holly's not even facing her. “Did you say something, honey?”
Holly turns, looks at her, and holds her doll aloft. “I can't get it off,” she says, tugging at the arm of the doll’s sweater.
Victoria slips a bookmark in place, then rises and walks the four steps to reach her granddaughter. She crouches down beside Holly. “Okay, I think I can help with that,” she says softly, fighting back the desire to grab Holly and hug her, to cry, to yell with joy.
Holly abandons the doll to Victoria’s hands, sitting quietly as Victoria peels off the outer layer of the jumper. When Victoria tries to hand it back, though, Holly shakes her head.
“No, Grandma. Not that,” she says, exasperation coloring her tone.
Victoria looks at Holly, notes the flush high on her cheeks. She works hard to keep her voice even. “What can’t you get off?”
Holly points to the doll’s hand.
Victoria blanches, and an involuntary moan escapes her lips.
Grabbing the arm of the doll, Holly yanks on it again. “It won’t come off!” she yells, ducking her head. Her hair falls across her face like a curtain, shutting Victoria out.
***
"She comes highly recommended," Victoria reminds him. She checks her reflection in the hall mirror and pats at her hair.
Harrison adjusts his tie. "I didn't say that I wouldn't be there; I only said that I'll be in meetings all morning. I'm not sure when I'll be able to get away."
"You promised," she says forcefully.
The mood in the hallway turns tense. Everything feels like a confrontation, as though he's inexplicably dragging his feet to help their precious girl.
"What time's the appointment?" Harrison shrugs into his jacket. "Do you want me to meet you there?"
"Twelve-thirty," she replies stiffly. "That's fine; we're going to the park and then for lunch."
"All right," he says. "I'll see you then."
Victoria catches herself calling out for both of them. "Holly! Gar-!" She touches her fingers to her lips and casts an appalled look at her husband.
It's strange that only one blond child appears in response to her call.
Should she apologize? She looks down at Holly's blank expression, then turns her helpless gaze over to Harrison.
He clears his throat.
Victoria hates feeling embarrassed. Exposed.
"Oh," she says in surprise. Holly's taken her hand, and Victoria squeezes it gently.
"Ready to go, sweetie?" Victoria smiles. Harrison can avoid her gaze as much as he wants, but she's determined. This is the right thing to do, and she's not backing down. Time alone doesn't heal all wounds.
He opens the door for them, kisses the top of Holly's head, and then cups Victoria's cheek. It's an apology. She'll take it.
***
"Remind me again why we're here," Harrison whispers in her ear.
She turns her head sharply and stares at him. He was late to arrive and missed meeting the doctor.
They're sitting side by side in the waiting room. The chairs are well-padded and the magazines current, but they're both uncomfortable.
"We are here for Holly," she says finally, glaring at him.
He starts to speak.
"Shut up," Victoria says, surprising them both. "Just shut up."
They sit in silence until the office door opens and Holly barrels out. She runs into Victoria's legs and climbs up onto her lap, burrowing her face in Victoria's arm.
The doctor comes out a moment later. Harrison stands, and Victoria makes the introductions from her chair.
"Dr. Rebecca Hendrix, meet my husband, Harrison Beecher." She wraps one arm around Holly.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Dr. Hendrix says, shaking Harrison's hand.
There are what Victoria suspects to be permanent circles under Dr. Hendrix's eyes, but her smile illuminates her face and that, more than the recommendations, is what has endeared her to Victoria. People can be smart and good at what they do, but it's kindness that the Beechers need now. Someone genuine and dedicated to Holly's well-being.
They're invited back behind the door. Victoria manages to stand up awkwardly, trying to make sense of their combined limbs; finally she half-carries Holly into what turns out to be a large playroom, bright with cheerful colors and patterned drapes. A variety of toys and dolls are stuffed onto a set of shelves. The lid on a trunk in the corner is propped open, revealing shawls, dresses, and a hat with a purple feather stuck in the brim.
Holly untangles herself from Victoria's grasp and makes a beeline for the low table and chairs. The surface of the table is covered in stacks of construction paper and enough crayons, markers, stickers and other art supplies to open a crafts store.
Dr. Hendrix ushers them into a smaller room set off to the side. "Holly, we'll be in here," she announces, leaving the door open.
Victoria settles into another comfortable chair. This room looks more like the psychiatrist's office that she'd expected, with a black couch and abstract paintings hanging on the walls.
"Holly's a great kid," Dr. Hendrix says.
"Yes, she is," Harrison agrees.
"Now let's discuss her health." Dr. Hendrix opens a blue folder.
Harrison takes Victoria's hand and she sits up straighter, steeling herself. She can do this.
***
At Harrison's request, Victoria puts the extra quilt on the bed. The nights are getting chillier; the crisp smell of autumn fading and birds peck hopefully at the empty feeders behind the house.
Victoria feels like a bird sometimes, cocking its head in confusion, forehead hitting the glass repeatedly, knowing there's something there that she can't quite reach. Holly. Holly's there, and Rebecca says that she's healing, but Victoria can't see it yet. It frustrates her.
After three months of sessions with Rebecca, art therapy with Alex, and extra time spent with her dad, Holly still doesn't talk much. She frowns a lot, appearing lost in thought, staring blankly as Victoria repeats her name. Sometimes Victoria has to shout, and then she's upset with herself, ashamed that she's taking out some of the disappointment on her granddaughter.
Dr. Hendrix suggested an established routine for Holly, with lots of time in the company of her peers. She proposed creating a structured environment, with focus on Holly's schoolwork, hobbies, and family. "Nothing rigid," she explained. "I'm not saying it should be like prison."
Harrison paled, his lips thinning with imagined affront. Victoria wished that he'd stop being so sensitive.
After the first awkward play date with stilted conversation and cranky children, Victoria realizes two things: it was easier with her sons, and it's entirely different for girls, especially a girl whose father is in prison, a girl whose brother was killed. Victoria can think it now, although she hasn't said it. He died, he passed, he was taken from us. Not he was kidnapped, hurt, terrified.
Toby and Angus had their own friends, and Victoria was friends with mothers who were her age. Now she's a grandmother, and no one invites Holly over, which Victoria suspects is because Holly's withdrawn and moody, prone to meltdowns. So Victoria makes the play dates, arranges for the driver to pick up three or four girls and bring them to Holly. It's exhausting. Multiple girls running through the house, their feet pounding up and down the stairs, shrieking, giggling. Holly hangs back, sitting on the fringes of the group as they tear through the cabinet of dolls, or the toy box, or the art room.
Dr. Hendrix also recommended that Holly has somewhere to go that's just for her.
A life-size dollhouse springs up in the backyard nearly overnight, but Holly barely ventures outside. Victoria finds her in Toby's old room, curled up on the bed. She's holding a framed photograph that usually sits on the nightstand, showing Holly and Gary sitting in front of their parents. It's a Christmas card picture from several years ago, and Gen's brilliant smile lights up the shot, contrasted with Toby's dour expression.
Victoria's breath hitches in her chest. She decides that she needs a place that's just for her, too, so she stands in the shower and cries for Holly, for her broken family. Their broken family. It has to have been five or six years since they were all together, long before Harry, and never after he was born. Oh, she's so tired of this debilitating sadness all of the time, the fear and helplessness. Victoria thinks about who she has left: Angus, Holly, and thank God, Harrison, her rock. Harry's far away, and Toby's been distanced from all of them for so long. It's too much. "It's too much!" she yells, slapping at the slippery tile walls. "Enough! Too much!" Warm water spatters into her mouth.
***
"Holly," Victoria says. "Holly, I need for you to come look at these papers with me."
Holly drags her feet, but settles in on the couch next to Victoria.
Victoria passes Holly a sheaf of flyers. "Go through these, and then tell me what looks good to you."
Holly looks up, puzzlement in her eyes.
"Whatever you choose, we're going to do it together. Okay?" Victoria smoothes wisps of hair off Holly's forehead, tucking it behind her ear. "So take a look."
She leans back on the cushions, keeping an eye on Holly while she pages through the stack. Victoria had gone to the community center and collected the activities flyers from the bulletin board: salsa dancing, pottery, yoga, a book group for kids, horseback riding, whatever she could find. Maybe it was time for something less insulated.
"With Grandpa, too?" Holly asks.
Victoria chuckles. "If he wants to."
"What about Daddy?" Holly crumples one of the flyers in her hand.
"Not yet," Victoria replies gently. "But I'm certain that he wishes he could, and that he's doing everything he can to come home soon."
Dr. Hendrix suggested activities where Holly shines, where she can be herself, or where there's some measure of responsibility. Victoria expects Holly to pick arts & crafts or maybe the field trip to the zoo.
Holly takes her time leafing through the stack, studying each page with weighty deliberation. Four months ago, Holly wouldn't have had time for any of this, and to be honest, neither would have Victoria. Just as the children had their soccer clubs and horseback riding lessons, she had her charity fundraisers and luncheons. Her friends disappeared as quickly as Holly's had, or maybe she'd forgotten to return a call or two; no one would dare argue that she's had other things on her mind.
"This one," Holly says, handing over a orange flyer with bold black lettering.
Victoria scans it. "Self-defense class... Monday evenings... wear comfy clothes. Are you sure?"
"Yes," Holly says.
There's paperwork involved for the class, including a permission form for children under twelve years of age. Harrison walks in while Victoria's helping Holly fill out the top section.
"Let me see that," he says, putting his reading glasses on. "Looks like a contract."
"Don't worry, Grandpa," Holly pipes up. "I checked for fine print."
It's a running joke how Harrison often relies on the advice of lawyers 'Garrison' and 'Hollister'. Victoria's amazed at how good it feels to laugh. She kisses the top of Holly's head. "Your grandfather can sign it," she says, handing Harrison the pen.
"No!" Holly yelps. "Don't!"
The mood changes so dramatically that Victoria's not sure if Holly's having a tantrum or a flashback.
"Okay, Hollister," Harrison says slowly, using the lawyer nickname. "Your grandmother can sign it. We don’t even need an invoice, since she’s family." He winks at Holly.
"No," Holly says again, in a more subdued tone. "I..." She bites her lip, then looks at Victoria. "I want Daddy to sign it. It says 'parent'."
Victoria meets Harrison's troubled gaze. "All right, sweetheart," she says. "We’ll drive up this weekend."
***
The following Monday evening finds them all in the car, on the way to the community center. Harrison's driving, Victoria seated next to him, and Holly's snuggled up in the back with her current favorite stuffed toy.
At home, Victoria and Holly had modeled their matching lilac tracksuits, and Harrison referred to them as his perfect purple peas in a pod. Holly almost laughed out loud, the noise sounding as though it was stuck in her throat.
Victoria remembers watching through the playroom window at Oz. Toby read Holly a story and Holly smiled. She fell asleep on her father's lap and Victoria slipped inside the room, laying the permission form on the low plastic table.
"Your father and I both offered to sign, but Holly balked," Victoria said. "It was really important to her that you were the one who signed it."
Toby stared at the paper, reading it, then down at Holly, and then back up to Victoria. His eyes filled with tears, and his fingers trembled when he picked up the pen.
"'M so proud of you, baby," he murmured against Holly’s temple.
"Here we are," Harrison says, breaking into Victoria's thoughts.
Victoria unbuckles her seat belt, and twists in the seat, looking at Holly's pale face. Sometimes Holly looks so much like Toby that it makes her heart ache.
"Sweetie, we don't have to go in," Victoria says. "We can try something else."
Holly's upturned face is solemn, and then she huffs out a breath and tilts up her chin defiantly.
No, it's clear that this is what she wants to do, and they make a lot of noise getting out of the car to fill the silence.
They stand around on the sidewalk for a minute, and then Victoria shivers. "Pick us up in an hour and a half," she instructs Harrison.
He nods. "One arm for each of my girls," he says, and Holly beats Victoria to his side for a hug. He pecks Victoria on the lips, bends to kiss Holly on the cheek.
Victoria takes Holly's hand. "Time to take control," she whispers, determined.
They walk the echoing halls of the center. Victoria spots the sign reading Self Defense Class tacked to a board by the auditorium, and she releases Holly's hand, lets Holly move ahead so that she's first in through the doors.
end