93: The Truth Revealed

A/N: This chapter takes place in the week between Christmas and New Year's, in the middle of the last chapter.

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Lynne

     "Holy shit! What?" I yell into my phone. Troy had just finished telling me that Pam has been in the hospital, that she'd lost the baby while I'd been off on my little trip.

      I was stupid. I did what shouldn't have been done. I over-punished that man. He never actually raped Erin, he just thought about it as a possibility. I had to go and correct the wrong I'd made against him…without him knowing anything about anything.

     I'd disguised myself with bluish contacts and red hair. Sean couldn't be able to recognize me during my trip to Riverview. He didn't remember anything about the night I cursed him, but I didn't want to take that risk.

     Even with the curse removed, he still doesn't remember that night. The real bad thing in this is that I also took off the part of the curse that encouraged him not to contact Erin. I couldn't remove one part without removing the other part. The second I removed it, I saw him get out his phone. I can only guess he sent her a message in some way.

     If he comes after her again, we'll have to deal with it however we can. Until then, I'll have to hope for the best.

    Troy tells me that Pam's at home, resting. I let him go with the promise that I'll call him later or at least see him at Hurricane for the New Year's party, and I get in my car to rush over to her house. When I get there, I find her resting in her bed, and Simon leaves the two of us so we can talk.
     She's hiding something; I notice that immediately. I walk over and give her a hug. The woman hugging me back isn't the same Pamela. She's unconsciously placed a shield around herself that normally isn't there. When we release the hug, I take a step back to get a better look at my old friend.

     "Tell me what really happened," I demand from her with a look that tries to penetrate the emotional shield she's placed around herself.

     Her lip trembles, and she wipes a tear from her eye. "I failed, and she punished me."

     "Who 'she'?"

     "Ashley," she whispers.

     "What happened?" I ask. "You failed?"

     "To save her new husband from a horrible brain tumor. How could I not help? And don't tell anyone."

     I sit down on the bed as the information swirls around in my head. Ashley's husband has a brain tumor and called to ask for Pam's help. Pam failed.

     "She did this?" My blood boils.

     Pam glares at the wall in front of her. "Whether directly or not, yes. She was furious when I failed. I'd started coming up to her to comfort the bitch, and she shoved me away. Then, the way she expelled me from the room was like she was having something jerk me backwards from my navel, and I've realized that that was what damaged me and made me eventually lose the baby."

     The look on her face reminds me of a younger Pamela, one that would rather fight than find another alternative to finding peace in a situation. She and Ashley, though best friends, could get into violent fights when we were teens. It was my 'job' as the red witch in the middle to do what I could to stop the fighting. With those two, I learned early what it was to maintain balance. Pam would constantly be summoning different things to block and throw at Ashley who'd only turn around and blast it away, also trying to get at Pam. I did what I could to intersect everything before it could find its mark. They didn't fight all the time, but when they did, it was always a show.

      "What are you doing?" I ask as I watch her hands glow different colors, reflecting her thoughts I'm sure. She doesn't answer me, so I get more specific. "What are you planning?"
      "Who says I'm planning anything? I'm just angry. Isn't that understandable?" she asks with only a trace of innocence.

     "You can't fool me, remember?"

     "I'm not planning anything; I'm only wishing I could. Right now, I'm too angry to think straight. But it'll come to me."

     "So…What? Are you going to go after her?"

     "I probably won't have to," she responds. "I'm betting anything she'll come here. After all, he's dying soon if he hasn't already. When that happens, she'll want to see her daughter in some pathetic attempt to find a family connection again. When she gets here, she won't be expecting whatever it is that I'm going to do, so I'll at least have the element of surprise."

     "And you think I'm going to allow that?"

     " 'Allow'?! I'm not asking your permission. She took something from me; I'll find something to take from her. That should make you happy, right? Balance?"

     This will piss her off, I think but say what needs saying anyway. "In her mind, you have taken something from her."

     "She should've known better than to think I could heal him! I even told her before I left that I didn't think I could. I only offered to try! I've not taken anything from her except the hope that I could fix it."

     Another thought occurs to me. "Did she know about your pregnancy?" I hate playing the Devil's advocate, but I have to make Pam see reason and get that look off her face.

     "No. I was worried she wouldn't let me try if she knew," she sheepishly admits. She obviously has a hard time admitting that Ashley has a heart in her somewhere. I don't blame her, really. Ashley leaving Bryce and Adele was awful at best.

     I start to say something else, but Pamela interrupts me before I can, "I don't want to listen to your reasons why I shouldn't blame her. If it weren't for her, her hopeless request, and her ferociously angry action, I'd still be happily looking forward to another baby!" She starts crying.

     I lean down and hug her again, and she cries hard into my shoulder. "Lynne, please, don't get in the middle of this," she says through her tears.
     I say nothing. She knows that in the middle is where I'll end up. Part of me wants to stand right next to her and help her crush Ashley, but my parents drilled into me my purpose. Under normal circumstances, what Ashley did to Pam wouldn't have really hurt her. Ashley didn't know she was pregnant or she probably wouldn't have asked for Pam to try to heal in the first place. I can't let Pam attack in anger, and I don't look forward to playing magical referee.
     "She deserves it. She deserves more for everything she's done to my family," Pam insists.
     "This isn't like you."
     "What? You think I can't feel justified fury?"
     "Don't act out of anger. You'll end up doing something you regret," I say, knowing it falls on deaf ears. She gets quiet, so I add, "Just promise me you'll think through every consequence before you do anything."
     "Get over it, Lynne. A fight is on its way. I won't try to stop you from interfering if all you're doing is keeping everyone else safe from the two of us, but don't get in my way." She leans back against the headboard and wipes her eyes.
     I sigh. "Don't worry about that right now. Rest. Get better. I'm sorry for what's happened to you; it's terrible. Don't let it cause permanent damage to who you are." I hold her face in my hands. "We all love you, and we want you to recover safely, okay?"
    "I'll rest and get better," she promises, but I notice she doesn't promise to stop scheming.
  

      After I speak with Simon for a few minutes, I tell him I'll see him later and leave. I let out a heavy breath and drive home. After parking my car in the driveway, I walk up my sidewalk to find Troy sitting and waiting for me. I say his name in surprise.

      "I didn't want to wait around forever for you to call me back," he says in explanation. "I was out anyway, so I thought we could talk face-to-face." He takes a breath. "I've missed you, especially on Christmas. Where did you go?" I see a mistrusting light in his eyes like he thinks I went to be with some other man.

      "I can't tell you," I answer and hate myself for keeping it from him.

      He nods and looks at the ground before rubbing the back of his neck. "You can't tell me a lot of things, can't you? The only reason I can see is that you don't trust me. I don't know what I did to make you not trust me. I wish I could figure it out. I haven't dated anyone else, for starters."

     "I haven't dated anyone since before Adele's birthday." Instead, I've been slowly teaching Adele how to control her raw power. Pam was pregnant and didn't want to overexert herself, so I happily signed up for the job of apprenticing her. That has kept us busy.

     "Then what, Lynne? I love you! Why can't you trust me with whatever has been bothering you?" he shouts.

     My lower lip trembles. "You hardly know me, Troy. Very few people know what I'm really like."

     His face screws up in pain. "So, what you're telling me is that you've decided not to show the real you to me, meaning I've fallen in love with a persona, a mask you show the world." He puts his forehead in his hand and then runs his hand over the top of his head. "Why?" he whispers.

     "Because you won't like the real me."

     "Try me. At least give me a chance." His eyes sadly glare at me.

     I nod my head, realizing that it's come to that point where I have to tell him. I'd dreaded this, knowing it would have to happen eventually if we were going to progress as a couple. "Come inside," I tell him softly. On the way inside, I pick up a stick off the ground.

     After I close the door, he looks at the stick strangely and asks, "What's that for?"

     I hold it up. "This." The end of the stick catches fire. It's a simple thing, really, and what I've been working on with Adele.

     His eyes widen in shock, and he backs away a few paces. I reach over and douse the flames by smothering them with my palm.

    "How did you do that?" he asks in a gasp, taking another step back. I make no move to follow him, not wanting to spook him.

     I look at the floor as I say, "I'm a witch, Troy." I feel my face wrinkle in worry as I look at him again. "And, I'm not always the most behaved. I did something to Sean that I had to go and undo over Christmas." For a moment, I'm reminded of why I gave Pam my warning. It's awful to feel that regret. At least I found a way to undo it.

     He swallows. "That's what you meant when you said that you and him had a little 'chat'…Something that got him to leave the island, to leave Erin alone."

     "Yes. I overdid it. Thankfully, I found a way to undo it. However, the part of the curse I placed upon him that told him to leave her alone forever went away too."

     "You're a witch," he says dully like it's finally sinking in. "You've always been one, for as long as I've known you. The whole time."

     "I don't openly tell people, but it's come to a point to where I think you should know," I respond quietly. Then I look up at his dazed expression, and a nightmare of mine starts coming true. Troy isn't taking this well.

      I say his name and take a step towards him. He immediately holds up his hands and backs away again. I stop, unable to hide the hurt look on my face.

     "So…You hurt him because it suited your purpose," he says, his eyes wide.

     "He needed to be stopped before he hurt Erin," I say, defending myself.

     "That's the same kind of reasoning gangsters use."

     "I didn't kill him! And what I did, I was able to undo."

     "And that makes it better?!"

     "Yes!"

     He holds his head in his hands. I'm losing him. He's going to see me as a freak. What would he do if he found out that Pam is one too? And little Adele?

     I back away and walk into my living room. "It's okay if you want to leave," I throw over my shoulder quietly.

     Several minutes of tense silence go by before he finally speaks. "This is all you've been hiding from me," he states in a questioning way. "That you're a witch. That's it? There's nothing else?"

     "What else could there be?" I ask before my breath gets caught in my throat when I see him slowly walking towards me.

     "I have no idea. Another man, perhaps? I'm only asking," he says before I see a hint of a smile. Almost to himself, he says, "There isn't someone else." His steps get quicker as he approaches me in the living room. "I always knew there was something special about you." He wraps an arm around my waist and kisses me.

      Tears escape my eyes, and I shake from trying to come to terms with his wonderful one-eighty. "I'm still me. This 'persona' you spoke of is still part of me, but I want you to know about all of me. You deserve to."

      "I love all of you, everything about you, even the parts I may not know yet. Forgive me if I was a little surprised."

      "I love you, Troy," I tell him and throw my arms around his neck. He crushes me to him with strength I didn't know he had. This was the first time I've told him how I felt. It was when I worried I'd lose him after he came by to visit the day before Adele's birthday party that I finally realized it. "I won't keep anything from you ever again."

88: Crazy, Hyperactive, Argumentative Self

Ginger

      Pam! I scream in my head and sit bolt upright in bed. Two more seconds pass, and I'm up, getting dressed, wanting to go to the hospital to see my best friend.

      Last night, Desmond had to give me a sedative to get me to calm down, but I'm wide awake now.

      "Ginger, why don't you call and find out what's going on first?" Desmond asks in a grouchy voice from his bed. I spend all my time here at his house, and I'm planning on selling mine.

      "I'm going there whether or not she's awake," I state resolutely and continue getting ready. I try to put on my shoes while still standing, and I lose my balance and fall over. Guess that sedative is still in me somewhat.

      "Well, wait for me. I'll hurry up and get dressed. You're not driving yourself," he growls like a bear.

      "Fine. Hurry up. I'll go make coffee," I offer while he grumbles about crazy, hyperactive, redheaded women. "Love you too!" I call out facetiously on my way down the stairs.

      Honestly, I have no earthly clue why I love him. He's a jerk, but I love him. I think it might be because when he's not a jerk, it's really wonderful, and his jerkiness isn't unbearable. Most of the time, I can laugh at it.

      Not to mention the sex is incredible.

      I tap my foot in an irritated fashion while I wait for the coffeemaker to hurry up.

      "I keep telling you; tapping your foot doesn't make it work faster," Desmond teases when he walks into the kitchen, and I turn around to give him an impatiently peeved look. He purses his lips, takes a step in my direction, and wraps his arms around me before he says, "She'll be okay."

      "I want to see for myself. I don't want to make a phone call. I don't want to hear someone else tell me. Even if she's somehow able to talk on the phone, I want to see for myself. I can't just do nothing!" I fidget while he steadfastly holds me.

      "And we're going; stop worrying." After I reach for the finally finished coffeepot, he scolds, "No coffee for you."

      "What?! I need coffee! I'm still drowsy. That's why I'm fighting it like this. I need the coffee to help fight it. I have to get to the hospital. You said we could go in the morning, and it's morning. I need that coffee, and so help me, if you don't get out of my way,-"

      "You'll what?" he challenges and folds his arms in front of him with a smirk.

      "Desmond!" I scream. "Give me that damn coffee!" I burst into tears.

      "Okay, okay. Shh." Instantly, smart-ass Desmond has been replaced by my compassionate fiancé, and I find myself back in his arms while I bawl out all my fear and helpless frustration. "Even though I'm going on record as saying that I think it's a bad idea given your current state, you can have some coffee. I'll put it in one of those thermos cups, and we can take it with us."

      I mutely nod, remembering how scared I was yesterday. There I was, being completely self-centered and wanting to finally tell everyone I was engaged, and Pam was suffering. Then she collapsed, and all I could think was that the last thing I talked about with her was me, me, me.

      Now that I look back on it, I can easily understand Desmond's demand that I take the sedative. I was a nutcase.

      "I don't have to have the coffee," I mumble complacently.

      "After you fought so hard for it? Take it. If you start losing it again, we'll do something about it. I'd rather you get what you want than you freaking out again."

      "I love you," I say, take his face in my hands, and kiss him quickly.

      The smirk returns, and he says, "Lucky me."

      "You know it."

      You know those people that walk their dogs and how the dog pulls on the leash while not caring that it's simultaneously gagging itself? That perfectly describes Desmond trying to keep me from sprinting across the parking lot when we get to the hospital.

      Three-oh-nine, three-oh-nine, three-oh-nine, three-oh-nine, I mentally chant.

      "What if they moved her?" I ask Desmond as we ride the elevator.

      "Then we'll find out where she went," he answers patiently.

      They didn't. After I lightly tap on the door twice, I hear Simon say I can come in.

      Pam sits up in the bed, looking like death warmed over. Dark circles surround her eyes. She looks like she's been knocked out by a prize fighter.

      "Hey," she says and forces a smile.

      My eyes dart to Simon for a moment, and I notice he looks exhausted. I wonder how much he's slept.

      "Hey," I repeat back, at a loss for something else to say. Going back to the dog allusion, I'm now the dog that chased a car and has actually caught the car it chased. What do I do now? I stand here mutely, unmoving.

      "I'll be okay, Ginger," she tells me sweetly, and I cry again.

      She reaches out for me, and I walk over to the bed to hug her gently. I have never, never, ever seen Pam so much as sick with a cold. She's… magical like that, so this is a shock to see her so fragile.

      I hear from her how she lost the baby, and we both cry together before purposefully changing the subject to when she might get out, where Jeremy is… anything but the lost life.

      "You're a mess," she tells me while trying to wipe under my cheekbones.

      I playfully roll my eyes. "I know. I don't know what I was thinking by putting on makeup. Habit, I guess." More like something to do on the car ride over here.

      I end up insisting to fix her hair into a pretty braid before Bryce and Erin walk in. Pam looks grateful now that I helped her appearance somewhat for Bryce's sake. She's very protective over her little brother, even if he's not so little anymore, and I knew it would bother her for Bryce to see her like she looked when I'd walked in a few hours ago. I tell her bye for now and let her visit with her brother and sister-in-law. Oops! No. I mentally laugh now. Well, it's only a matter of time anyway.

      Desmond stands talking on the phone in the empty waiting room. "Listen to your conscience. What's it telling you to do? … Well, that's selfish. … Yes, I know that." He turns around and sees me, and he cracks half a smile before getting an irritated expression on his face again. "Exactly! That's why you have to do this! … Tell me how that makes sense then, please, because I don't understand it."

      Quietly, I have a seat in a nearby chair and listen to Desmond argue with someone, wondering who it is but knowing it's not my business.

      When he hangs up, he angrily looks at his phone and says, "Ginger, I love you, but I will never understand what makes women think the way they do. What a selfish, vindictive bitch." He looks up, and his eyes widen suddenly. "Not you."

      "I was going to guess as much," I say with a small smile.

      He sighs, sticks his phone in his pocket, and walks over to me with his hand out. I put my hand in his, and he pulls me to standing before wrapping his arms around me.

      "You look much calmer now," he points out.

      "Yes, and I'm very tired all of a sudden." I rest my head on his shoulder. We rock back and forth a tiny bit, and I say, "I thought you weren't working today."

      "You know me. Workaholic. Since I had a minute, I hoped to catch her off guard with her not expecting to hear from me today," he explains before letting out a breath like he's trying to shake off some stress.

      "Let's go get some ice cream," I say, and he laughs.

      "My earlier statement still stands." He chuckles again before he says, "All right."

      While we eat the ice cream, I fill in Desmond about everything about Pamela.

      "She's crushed; I know she is," I say sadly.

      "But she can have another one, right?" he asks.

      "Yeah, when her body heals enough, but it's not the same." I turn my cone to keep ice cream from dripping everywhere. When I turn to look at Desmond, I see him staring at me with a contemplative, calculating expression. "What?"

      "Do you want kids?" he asks outright.

      For the second time today, I'm shocked dumb. I feel my eyes widen as I stare at him.

      "Your ice cream is melting."

      "Do you?" I ask instead of pay attention to my ice cream.

      "Let's talk about it in a minute. Finish your ice cream first." He puts the remaining end of his cone in his mouth, finishing it.

      "You expect me to eat while waiting for a conversation like that?!" I squeal.

      "Your cone is quickly becoming a real mess," he says, staring at my hand.

      "You don't want them, do you," I state more than ask.

      "I didn't say that."

      "You implied it."

      "No, I didn't. I just asked you if you wanted them. Eat your ice cream, Ginger."

      I glare at him and take the cone in my other hand before purposefully smearing the ice cream all over my fingers. His eyes darken before he suddenly grabs my wrist and brings my hand to his mouth, and he licks the ice cream off them slowly, watching me watch him. With my free hand holding the ice cream cone, I bring it to my mouth and very, very slowly circle my tongue around the top of the ice cream. He stops what he's doing and watches me.

      Two can play at this game.

      "Mmmmmm… this is really good," I tell him.

      He says in a low, careful, quiet voice, "We're in a public park. If it weren't public, I'd have you bent over this bench in three seconds."

      "It'd take you that long?" I taunt and give the ice cream another sensual pass with my tongue.

      "You know, surprisingly, it's not very crowded right now, and this is somewhat shaded from view…"

      "Can't you get arrested for doing that?" I ask with a smirk.

      "Only if you get caught," he counters, and the look in his eyes makes my panties want to drop to the ground of their own free will.

      "Hm. Guess we'll never know," I say, shrugging with fake nonchalance.

      Before I can react, he takes my ice cream cone, shoves it in my shocked, open mouth, and carries me over his shoulder off into the nearby wooded area. Sonofa… Now I can't argue with him because my mouth is full of ice cream cone! I still let him know how much I 'appreciate' being man-handled.

      "Three seconds, even though we don't have the benefit of the bench," he says as he jerks my panties down, turns me around, pushes me over, and drives himself into me.

      I fight the cone out of my mouth and say, "That was five."

      He tightly grasps my shoulder and leans forward over me to say into my ear, "Better be quiet. You don't want to get arrested, do you?"

      I have to clamp a hand over my mouth and hold onto a nearby tree with the other while Desmond roughly fucks me. I love listening to his breathing when he gets close. It's so damn hot.

      He lets me enjoy my orgasm for… three… seconds before he gets consumed by his own.

      Once we've fixed our clothing, he turns to me, grabs my face, and kisses me wildly.

      Later, he says, "To answer the question, I don't know. I hadn't really thought about it, but now that I have… Look at us. Look at me. Can you see me being a father? My parents were assholes. My adopted parents are assholes. It's not like I've had a good role model."

      I run my finger over his goatee that got some ice cream on it when he kissed me. "Yes. I can see you being a daddy. Look at me also, since we're doing this. My mom is in jail for killing my dad. I didn't have great parents either, but all around me are great parents. Pam and Simon, for one. Then there's Troy and the strong bond he has with his mom."

      "Yes, but us?" he asks in a pained voice.

      "You don't want them," I state.

      "I'm scared to death of being a father. I don't want to destroy some poor kid's life." He looks worriedly down at me.

      "Give yourself more credit. But if you don't want any, I'm fine with that. I'm scared too. I just want you." I try my best to smile reassuringly.

      "You're going to change your mind. Deep down, you want them."

      "If I do, I don't want one for a long time, so we'll be fine."

      He holds my face in his hands. "I don't want to disappoint you later on."

      "As long as you stay you, you can't. Who else can put up with my crazy, hyperactive, argumentative self?"

      " 'Put up with'? Those are the reasons I love you," he says, smiling widely, and I have to kiss him, sticky ice cream still on my lips and all.