ForevaXena's FanFic . . .

Blue Oblivion

by Jp

© December 1999

_{No part of this text may be reproduced in whole, or in part, without expressed consent of the author}

Disclaimers: Technically, these swinging chicks belong only to me, but…they may resemble a couple of cool ladies that belong to RenPics. This is not for profit just a little fun and what a bad case of writers’ block, a boring job, and a jolt of inspiration can inspire.

Violence: There’s a couple of moments of swift ass-kicking. On a scale of 1 to 5, I’d give it: 3 or maybe 4 buckets of blood.

Sex: Where? When? How much? And how come nobody told me? Nothing too bad, just some sweet grrl on grrl fumbling. If that gets your panties all in bunch then look elsewhere, no harm no foul.

Language: I didn’t think virgin ears was still a concept, so naturally, I ignored it.

Other crap: ‘Charm City’ is my home when I’m not at school, so it inspired me. I’ve taken a few liberties with the landscape, but in an off hand sort of way, it’s right. Uh, I’m supposed to warn about hurt/comfort…so I’m warning.

By the ways and thank yous: Yes, this is my first jaunt into the genre of UBER!!! By the way the Serenity prayer isn’t mine. I’d like to say that I came up with all those wonderful lyrics but actually they belong to: Gershwin (The Man I Love); Young, Crosby, Washington (Ghost of a Chance); Webster/Livingston (12^th of Never); Ellington, Gordon,Mills (Prelude to a Kiss); Strayhorn(Lush Life); (Angel eyes). I don’t really have anyone to directly thank, but special big-ups go to all those kick ass writers (T. Novan, Missy Good, Morrig, LN James, yada yada, the list goes on) who have kept me up way past my bedtime and have made all my last minute paper writing sessions possible.

Lunchtime: Feel free to drop me a line and tell me whatcha’ think, whatcha’ hate, whatcha’ like and all that. Be easy, be gentle, but if it’s constructive criticism give me your best shot. catwoman59@hotmail.com

Suggested reading tips: Fix a Martini and grab a stack of cd’s that include: Diana Krall, Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Cassandra Wilson( just to name a few) and then

Chapter 29

Conner spent the rest of Saturday afternoon on the floor. By Saturday night she had actually made it into her bed. On Sunday she managed to get up and take off her clothes, that reeked of stale puke and salt, she also found the bar. When Terry kicked in the door at 8:45a.m. on Monday morning she found Conner sprawled on the parlor floor-passed out. Apparently, from all the empty bottles that Conner drank, in an attempt to drain her bar. Bottles that weren’t empty, were broken or spilling into the sink. Glasses were strewn everywhere, along with ice trays, jiggers, and shakers. Terry sighed at the mess around her, but was glad that Conner was still breathing, even though a few hours earlier she wasn’t sure she was alive.

When Terry awoke well before dawn on Monday morning it was not only to an empty bed, but to the ringing of her phone. It was Sara on the other end babbling about Conner being kidnapped and Blue being some psycho killer. She took the information in stride considering her bewildered state, and then she spied the note from Sam on her nightstand:

"Hey Sugar, be back as soon as I can, gotta bail the Big One out of county, something about detox. See ya." Terry abruptly ended her phone call and proceeded to call Conner every hour on the hour. She stopped calling 2 hours later when Sam knocked on her door.

"What the hell is going on?" Terry was fully dressed, armed with her keys and ready to head out of the door.

"Slow down Terry, we need to talk for a second. Then you need to go find Conner." Terry allowed herself to be led into the living room as she sat down on the couch with Sam.

"What’s going on?"

"I just heard the strangest story. Maybe not strange, but just some fucked up karma or whatever.

"Sam! What’s up?" Terry stood now.

"Whoa, slow down. Look, I didn’t get the whole story, but I think, I don’t know…I think Blue killed her brother."

"What! Whose brother? Hers? Wha-?"

"No, Conner’s."

"Holy shit! Ewan’s dead. Oh my God."

"No, no, no. Some dude named Chuckles or something."

Terry raised an eyebrow. "Chuck…Oh, Duncan." She was silent for a moment as she realized what she said. "Oh sweet Jesus. Sam, I gotta go. Um…stay, leave, whatever, I gotta go." Terry left Sam sitting on the couch as she bolted out of her house and broke into a run that she recognized as a bad decision a block away. She ignored the searing pain in her chest, promised herself for the thousandth time she would quit smoking and ascended the steps into Conner’s house.

_______________

Terry checked Conner’s pulse once again and scooped up Conner and put her in the bed. After Terry had cleaned up the mess in the parlor room and loaded the dishwasher for the second time, she sat down at the kitchen table with the folder she had picked up off the floor. It was not an easy read. It was only 35 pages thick, with pages of photos and diagrams, but it still took her almost 2 hours to read. She immediately recognized the forms standard to juvenile court as she began reading through the description of the Boston projects. She scrunched her brow in thought as she mulled quickly over the fact that Ewan lived. She decided to worry about it later as she continued her reading. There were arrests for drug pushing, assaults, weapons charges, soliciting for sex. There were rehab centers, counseling centers, and suicide attempts. It was a year by year journal of the singers life. There were two years of nothing on the woman, and then two years after her 22^nd birthday the listing began again. She had attempted to join the F.B.I., but was denied on the psyche exam, which she couldn’t find. Two months later she enlisted in the Army Reserves. No psyche evaluation there either. Terry closed the book in thought, and then picked up the phone.

"Somerset, Lane, and Willis, how can I help you?"

"Hey Bobby. This is Terry, can you connect me with Lane."

"Sure thing, Terry." Terry took the file and walked into the basement. She grinned at the huge mess of papers that littered the floor and stepped over them as she turned on the fax machine.

"Lane here."

"Hey, Laney, it’s Terry, I need a favor."

"Aw, Terry." He whined

"Chill, it’s legal. I just need a file from Boston. Army recruitment."

"Shouldn’t be too hard."

"Cool. The number is 007654302, A as in apple and M as in Mary."

"O..K..What do you need?"

"The psyche evaluation."

"Is this for Gregory?"

"Nah, personal client."

"Uh-huh."

"Zip it buddy. Fax it to this number, 410 521 7615."

"All right, give me 10 minutes."

"Thanky you Laney, I owe you."

"Sure do- my wife likes the Mystics you know?"

"Yeah, uh huh, bye Laney." She smiled as she hung up the phone and waited.

Ten minutes later, the machine spit out 15 sheets of paper. This reading went slightly faster and Terry was relieved that Blue was not a nut case; in fact she was unbelievably sane. Aside, from post-traumatic distress syndrome, nightmares, and an extreme case of guilt hanging on her shoulders, the woman was fine. She had only left the reserves 2 years ago, honorable discharge. It wasn’t until half way through the stack of papers that Terry had her musings answered. What a 12 year old Azure didn’t say in court, she said to a shrink 10 years later- why Ewan lived. Terry shook her head in disgust. This was getting messier and messier by the moment and Conner was chucking her life out of the window because of too much pride in her family and her own self loathing. Terry cracked her neck as she left the basement and went to the kitchen. She knew Conner well enough to know that young woman had only read up to Boston and then stopped at the photos. It was going on 1:00pm when Terry finally checked on Conner again. She could tell without looking that Conner had awakened and used the bucket next to her bed. Terry let her sleep for another hour before she ran Conner a bath and woke her up. Conner’s green eyes were rimmed with tears and filled with heartache.

"Let’s go midget. Up and at ‘em" Terry dragged Conner unceremoniously from the bed and sat her on the toilet. Conner groaned in protest as her shirt was roughly tugged over her head, followed by her shorts. "All right. In." Conner let her head loll to the side as she rested her forearms on her thighs. "Oh no you don’t. Are you gonna puke?" Terry pushed Conner up as she talked. Conner shook her head no. "Good, then let’s go." Conner moaned again as she stood on wobbly legs and was practically thrown into the tub. The water was probably a little hotter than she would have made it, but at this point she didn’t care. She could have been smack dab in the middle of a volcano and been too numb to know her flesh was being burned off.

As Terry shampooed Conner’s hair for the second time, she spoke. Sullen eyes locked on warm brown eyes. "She killed him." Terry’s heart sank at Conner’s face and words. She looked so lost, just like the nine year old girl that found out her brother died, in a so-called shooting.

"I know baby." Terry dropped her hands from Conner’s hair. "Rinse." She watched as Conner sunk under cloudy water and the re-emerged with a small splash. "You ready to get out? You’re gonna turn into a little white raisin." Terry tweaked Conner’s nose and then stood up. She left the bathroom as Conner dried off and got dressed, while she changed the sheets on the bed and aired out the room with incense. When Conner exited the bathroom, the scent of cleanliness mingled with jasmine incense. As Conner plopped down on the bed she was overcome with a sob as Fahrenheit cologne seemed to engulf her. Terry just sighed as she watched Conner roll over and bury her head in the pillow. Terry rubbed circles on Conner’s back with the palm of her hand, until her sobs subsided. "What’ up Conner?"

Conner sniffled as she lifted her head off the pillow. "Wh-what kind of soap did you p-put in the tub?"

Terry scrunched her brow. "Uh, the brown bottle I think." She heard Conner laugh as she shoved her head back into the pillow. "What’s up?"

"It’s hers." she mumbled through the pillow.

"Damn! I’m so sorry honey." Terry leaned down and hugged Conner. "Look, why don’t you nap, I’ll fix some soup, and then we’ll do a little reading." Conner shook her head. "What, no soup, no nap?"

"No. No reading." Conner rolled on her side, her back to Terry and drew her knees into her chest.

"Conner, have you even read it?""

"Enough."

"Oh, so you’ve read the part about the Nobel™ peace prize, medal of valor, and a Grammy™ for her reading of Cat in the Hat."

Conner released a breath. "Shut up Terry."

"I see a smile little rabbit." Terry poked Conner’s sides gently, causing her to squirm.

"Stop Terry. I’m sulking not giggling."

"Oh, yes, yes. I’m sorry, we’re sulking." Terry sat back on the bed. "You wanna sulk and talk?"

"What’s to talk about?"

"Conner."

"What? It’s just my fucking luck. I fall in love and she turns out to be a killing machine, who murdered my brother."

Terry wanted so badly to yank Conner up by the hair and shove the truth in her face. Of course, what Blue did wasn’t something to be forgotten, but couldn’t it be forgiven? It was the past. It was defense, hell, it was inevitable. If she hadn’t killed Duncan, then there were about 50 other people waiting for the chance. Terry bit back her thoughts and chose her words carefully. "He would have killed her." The room was still except for the rustling of covers as Conner turned over, draping her arm across Terry’s stomach and resting her head in her lap. "I know" was all she said as she closed her eyes and drifted into sleep.

______________

It was going on 6:00pm when Conner awoke to Terry putting away dishes in the kitchen and the soft R & B emanating from the stereo. She wandered into the living room and sat down on one end of the loveseat. Terry walked into the living room and placed the folder on the coffee table. Green eyes drifted from the folder to Terry and back.

"Terry, I don’t think I can."

"Then fine, you’ll listen."

Conner reclined back into the couch and sighed. "Listening isn’t going to help. It won’t change facts."

Terry fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Do you even know the facts?"

Conner sighed and laid down on the couch. "I don’t know if I can handle anymore, besides what difference will it make."

"It may change the perspective."

Conner sat up and faced Terry. With a voice full of incredulity, she asked, "will it really?"

Terry was wanting to hear some hope in Conner’s voice, but it never reached Conner’s eyes. "Do you love her?’

"What?" The question caught her off guard.

"Do you love her?"

Conner searched her hands for an answer. "How can I?"

"How can you not?"

A blonde eyebrow arched. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

"It means understand what happened in Boston and understand what you both lost. And then think about how hard all this was with her knowing who you were, and to still open her heart knowing that this would be the outcome eventually."

Conner could only slump her shoulders as she cradled her head in her hands. "But, Terry she…"

"She what Conner? She saw her whole family murdered by a bunch of punks," she held up her hand at Conner’s arched brow, "by punks and she saved herself. Conner, no offense, but you knew Duncan for what, a hot minute. It was right that you should have worshipped him, but let us not mistake for one second that Duncan ‘Chuckles’ McGreely wouldn’t have done the same to Blue, and for less."

Conner wanted to seethe and yell, but the ‘fuck you, Terry’ came out as a whisper rather than a bellow. Conner spoke through hands that covered her face. "What am I supposed to do?"

Terry smiled on the inside. "You’re supposed to get up and get dressed and go with me to Tony’s."

Conner’s head sprang up. "Hell No!"

"C’mon Conner, you two need to talk or at least make the attempt. This won’t get better without that."

"Nononono. I can’t see her. I-I can’t even say her name without seeing Duncan’s face. How am I supposed to look at her?"

"What are you afraid of, huh? You’ll look at her and still want her. You’ll look at her and still be in love. Or maybe you’ll find some forgiveness."

"What the hell? Why does everyone keep fucking assuming that I need forgiveness?"

"Conner, how many cats have you run over?’

Conner wrinkled her brow. "What?"

"How many random road kills have you made?" Terry’s face was straight as she stared at a wide-eyed Connor.

"Wh-what?"

"C’mon, how many old ladies have you pushed out into traffic?"

"Old ladies, Terry what?"

"How many families have you evicted? How many acts of arson have you committed, not including albums? How priests have you robbed?"

Conner finally stood up as the barrage of questions seem to physically pelt her. "Terry, what the hell are talking about?"

"How many people have you killed in cold blood?"

Conner bit into her lip as she stopped herself from making some comment about being indirectly responsible. The stern look on Terry’s face deterred her action. "None."

Terry stood as well. "But, you’re a McGreely aren’t you? Aren’t you a thieving and marauding bastard with no fathers and harlots for mothers?" Conner was clinching her fists at her comments, she was getting pissed, but it was working.

Conner’s chest heaved with breath. "I make my own way, Terry. My life is not determined by my surname. I was raised to believe in honor and warriors, not in thieves and mottoes."

Terry fought the smile that was tickling the corners of her mouth. "Then, get your highlander ass dressed and lets go and tell the woman you love that you all can at least try to fix this. You can’t change it, but if you want it bad enough, you can make it better.

Terry made so much sense to Conner. Of course, she wanted this. Of course they could fix it…with lots of therapy, but maybe. Terry believed Conner wanted it and Conner was brimming with determination to believe it herself. Almost. She chickened out when they were halfway out of the front door. Connor hung onto the door frame as if it was her anchor in a twister.

"Uh, Terry, I changed my mind. I can’t do this, I’m not ready. What if she’s not ready. I can’t. This, this..no way..I just can’t."

At first Terry smiled, ready to pry slender fingers away from the door jamb, but she looked into Conner’s eyes and saw extreme fear. Terry let out a small sigh as her shoulders sagged in defeat. "Ok."

"Ok?" Green eyes opened wide. "No pushing, no pulling?"

"Nope. And no reverse psychology either."

"Wow."

"All though, I do suggest you come and pick up your paperwork. You don’t have to see her. Just take care of your business." Terry poked Conner in the arm.

"Ok."

"All right, lil bit, I gotta go." Terry pulled Conner into an embrace and then kissed her lightly on the cheek before she descended the steps and walked down the sidewalk.

Chapter 30

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