Great Bear 2/3


Author:  
Feedback: Yes please!
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Web Page: http://www.squidge.org/~surrealarts/Annex.html 
Category:  Slash, Langly/Byers 
Rating:   NC/17
Spoilers:  minor for Maximum Byers and First Person Shooter
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc
Archive:   Lone Slasher, Basement, WWOMB, Gossamer, 
Ephemeral;  anywhere else, just ask
Summary:  Post-ep for Diagnosis Jimmy:  angst on the journey
back to Washington





The next morning when I woke up he was gone.  His overnight bag 
was already packed and sitting on the floor by the door. I figured 
he must be talking to Mel or something, so I got dressed ASAP and 
went along to Mel's room.  They were just coming out the door 
together. 

He looked tired, like he hadn't slept much after all.  There were 
dark shadows under his eyes and his mouth was tight.  But that 
wasn't what worried me.  It was the way he looked at me - or 
rather, he *didn't* look at me. Wouldn't meet my eyes.  Usually in 
the morning he'll smile, even give me a quick kiss and hug as long 
as no-one else is around.  Not any more.  Just a quick flicking 
glance at me, a brief nod and "hi" - like I was nobody special.  
Like he didn't want me around.  All my guilt and shame from 
yesterday came flooding back.  He'd remembered what I did, how I 
let him down.  

Mel noticed it too, looked from one to the other of us, but 
obviously told himself it was none of his business.  He usually 
does that, unless we're out right fighting.  He looked back at 
John again, frowning slightly, and started to tell me what they'd 
decided.  Mel was going to stay on till Jimmy got out of the 
hospital, just a few more days, then they would fly back to DC 
together.  We figured it would be easier on Jimmy that way, his 
insurance would pay for the flight, he deserved it.  He needed 
someone with him and it was obvious that should be Mel.  Mel 
doesn't handle these long days on the road any more, either.

But it meant that John and me drew the short straw for the road 
trip.  I couldn't believe my luck.  A few days alone together 
without distractions or spectators - we hadn't had that for years, 
not in all the time we'd been together.  Only it wasn't turning 
out like I expected.  No way.



===000===

The whole of that first day, he hardly spoke to me at all.  

We were driving east, through Washington State, higher and higher 
into the mountains.  I like the mountains, love the space.  Kinda 
unexpected for a computer geek who spends all his life in a 
basement, but I do.  So it would have been perfect, if John had 
been speaking to me.  

He just sat all morning in the van next to me, staring out the 
window.  I kept trying to get him talking, babbling about anything 
and everything that came into my head. I know I talk too much at 
the best of times, the mental state I was in I was ten times 
worse.  I just needed to fill the silence, to hear the sound of my 
own voice to stop me thinking.  


But it was like I was more aware of him than ever before.  I was 
conscious of him sitting next to me in the van, every breath he 
took, every small movement he made, every small sound he made.  I 
could swear I could feel the warmth of his body even though we 
were a foot apart.  I couldn't stop thinking about how he had
made love to me the night before, how he'd taken control and 
dominated me in a way he'd never done before.  I kept on sneaking
little sideways glances at him, hoping he would turn his head
and look at me and in a way praying that he wouldn't because
I knew I would blush like a school kid with a crush. I was
like almost shy with him.  


About mid morning we stopped for coffee, at a small town high in 
the mountains that was little more than a scatter of hotels 
catering for skiers, and a few small souvenir shops.  We found a 
coffee shop with a terrace looking out over the  valley, and sat 
looking out at the view.  I was really nervous by now.  But I knew 
I had to take a chance.

"John, what's wrong?"

He looked sideways at me, frowning.  "What?"

I couldn't look at him.  I stared in front of me, out of the 
window.  In front of us were the mountains, beautiful, remote, 
cold.  I shivered. "I know you're mad at me because of yesterday.  
I wanted to say  . . I'm sorry.  I let you down and I know that's 
why you can't even look at me.  I . . . I . .

"What?"

He grabbed my shoulder and turned me, it, forcing me to look at 
him.

"Ringo, what in hell are you talking about?  What about 
yesterday?"

"In the warehouse, when Stukas had you ... I should have done 
something but I didn't.  I screwed up, John, I should've helped 
you but I froze.  I ... god, you must hate me-"

"Hate you-?"

His hand dropped off my arm and he turned away.  I couldn't look 
at him either, and stared out of the window again.  The mountains 
were suddenly blurred and I blinked the tears away.   

"Ringo, I'm not blaming you.  Is that what this is all about?  You 
think you did something wrong?"

I just stood there, knowing that if I tried to speak I wouldn't be 
able to control my voice.  

He got up and started pacing, the way he does when he's really, 
really worried.  "It's just - "  he came and stood in front of me, 
looking deep into my eyes.  "I can't explain here.  We'll talk 
about it later."

"But-"

He shook his head, sighing impatiently.  "Ringo, this is nothing 
to do with you.  I'm not mad at you, okay?  I'm not mad at you, 
I'm mad at *me*".

"But -"

He cut me off.  "I don't want to talk about it here.  C'mon, let's 
get back to the van."  

He walked out of the coffee shop, leaving me standing staring 
after him.

===000===

It was as I walked back to the van that I saw it, in the window of 
a little souvenir shop next to the parking lot.  The minute I saw 
it I knew I had to buy it for John.  

The sales assistant explained all about it.  "Beautiful, isn't it?  
They're made by a local Native American, an old guy lives in a 
cabin halfway up a mountain outside of town.  They say he prays 
every time he picks up his tools to work."

The assistant wrapped it carefully for me and I slipped it into my 
backpack where John wouldn't find it. But I didn't know when I was 
going to get the opportunity to give it to him.  As a peace 
offering?  A love gift?  A "please forgive me" bribe?  


===000===


It was getting dark by the time we found a motel for the night and 
checked in.  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if he wanted 
separate rooms, but I stopped myself in time.  As we got our bags 
from the van and locked it for the night, I saw him pause and look 
up at the stars, like he was looking for something.  

I still felt uneasy with him.  "What ya looking for?"

"Which way is North  . . . ah, yes, there.  Look, Ree.  The Great 
Bear."

Being born on a farm, I knew the stars pretty well once.  Yeah, 
there was the Big Dipper standing on its end, and the rest of the 
Great Bear climbing up into the sky.  Living in DC, you forget to 
look up at the stars.  But out here, you can look up and wonder.  
What is out there, who is out there?  I looked at him standing 
beside me, his face turned up to the stars, and all the hope and 
wonder was back in his face.  He caught me looking at him, and his 
face shut down again.  

"I'm tired, how about you?"

I followed him into our room.  

===000===

We'd grabbed a pizza earlier, at another small town we passed 
through, so all I wanted to do now was just get under a hot shower 
and then into bed.  I'd been thinking all afternoon about what 
John had said.  "We'll talk later."  The more I thought about that 
the more scared I got.  He'd good as admitted something was wrong 
and we needed to talk.  But now we had the time, I was scared to 
death about what he might say.  So I headed into the shower first 
chance I got, wondering if he would come in after me and we'd end 
up showering together - that usually ends pretty good, if you know 
what I mean. 

No such luck, and when I came out he was sprawled on the bed 
watching the TV.  He hardly looked at me, just switched off with 
the remote and hauled himself off the bed, and walked straight 
past me into the bathroom.

I crawled into bed and switched the TV back on again, it was The 
Weakest Link with that English bitch whose voice always reminds me 
of Yves.  I started to think about Yves again and how she'd 
managed to save our butts.  If she hadn't called in the RCMP . . . 
John with the knife at his throat . . . I started to go over it 
again in my mind, the scenes flashing through my head, seeing him 
again facing down Stukas.  I shivered, partly with remembered fear 
and partly  . . I suddenly realised WHY I kept coming back to that 
scene.  It turned me on.  

It turned me on, to realise that THIS man, this ordinary 
unassuming guy who nobody usually looks at twice, who everyone 
underestimates, has the courage and resoucefulness of any ten 
other guys.  And  . . he's mine.  My lover.  

I wanted him so much.

But he didn't seem to want me any more.

===000===

I decided to have one more try to get him to talk.  I waited till 
he came back into the bedroom, turned out all the lights except 
the small one over the bed and got in beside me.

"So, are we gonna talk or what?"

He didn't answer.

"John, you said today we'd talk later about what was bugging you.  
So talk.  You said you thought it was your fault?"

I thought for a while he wasn't going to answer.  Then he started 
to talk, in a soft voice only just above a whisper.

"I nearly got us all killed, okay?  First of all by dragging us 
all out here anyway on this selfish self-appointed *mission*, 
thinking I could actually DO something to make a difference, I 
think I can go charging in like some kind of white knight and put 
everything right, and all that happens is that Jimmy ends up in 
the hospital and WE all get caught, thanks to me again, and we 
would all have been killed if it hadn't been for Yves saving our 
butts again.  So yes, Ringo, I am mad at me and you should be 
too."

"Hey, hold on a minute.  That DIDN'T happen, did it? We're all 
okay, and we WON.  We won double.  We put Stukas out of business 
and we put Bellucci behind bars.  And okay, Jimmy's in the 
hospital but he's gonna be fine, and if he wasn't there we'd never 
have caught Bellucci.  So we did good, John.  I don't understand 
why you're beating yourself up."

He rolled over on his side to look at me better. 

"I was scared, Ree.  I was so scared, I knew that Stukas would 
work it out that I couldn't be there alone, he'd get the other 
guys to search the building and they'd find you and Mel, and we'd 
all get our throats cut and it would be my fault for dragging us 
into this . . . I nearly got you killed, Ree, that's what I keep 
thinking.  I keep seeing Stukas putting that knife into your 
throat, and the blood . ." 

He sat up, putting his folded arms on his knees and his head down 
on them.  "I've been thinking about it all the time, I could have 
got us all killed, and I'm so angry with myself, it makes me sick 
just to think about it."

I pulled at him until he lay down again beside me. Close to him 
now, I suddenly realised he was shaking.  Oh God . .

I curled myself closer to him.  "Let me help."

He turned over, facing me.  "Sorry."  

"S'okay."

I slid an arm over his torso, feeling the deep trembling in his 
body.  "I want to help.  Don't shut me out."

He put a hand out tentatively, stroking my arm.  I pulled him 
closer and he came gratefully, for comfort, for warmth.  He clung 
to me, holding tight, shaking.

I held him while he wept, trying to give him the reassurance he 
needed.  I stroked his hair, whispering to him.  "It's all right, 
it's over" till he slept.  I went on holding him for a long time, 
still talking softly to him, telling him the things I never dared 
to when he was awake.  

"I'm so proud of you . . . do you know how much I love you?"


Continued in Part 3