((Takes place a few hours after Too Late.))
Feet crunched on the gravel driveway, thumped across stone paving, paused for just a moment as the door to the big house on Maple Grove swung in. Those same feet moved forward into the house, carrying a body that was tense, stiff with the effort of holding itself together just a little bit longer. No words were offered to the Old Man who just happened to be passing through the hallway, his rheumy eyes following the painful progress of a breaking heart up the stairs with open, stern worry. The playful dance of a black and white collie was stilled by the unhappy arrival of the visitor at the door to a suite appropriated more than a year before by a then-newly-wedded couple, a single bark announcing the visitor's arrival as a weak hand knocked on the door, that breaking heart hoping against hope that there would be some kind of welcome inside.
Cosmo's bark announced a visitor's arrival at the door to that suite, though it took a moment for someone to actually answer the door. When it was finally answered, it was Jon who answered, baby Emily cradled in his arms, sucking at her fingers as he tried jiggling her to sleep. He and Vicki had only arrived home from Vancouver a few days earlier, fresh back from filming Swan Song, which was already generating Oscar buzz before it even hit theaters. Two films in one year wasn't too shabby, and he was already busy again memorizing lines and getting ready for Arsenic and Old Lace, which was due to open at the Shanachie in a few days' time.
To say that the last person he expected to find at the door was his little sister was very much an understatement, and it showed from the look of utter astonishment on his face. "Lena?" he asked, stammering a moment as he looked her over. They had become somewhat estranged since....well, he wasn't sure exactly when it had happened. They were slowly working on patching things up, but things still felt awkward between them. It didn't help matters that he couldn't remember most of what they'd been through together. "What are you doing here" What's wrong?"
His little sister looked as though she had been through hell - not in her presentation, but in the deeply haunted pain that dominated her blue eyes, swimming with tears that were only just held in check. She would have wrapped herself around her brother, if only he had not been holding Emily. Just the sight of her niece was a slap Helena did not need right now; she didn't want to be reminded that Jon didn't remember her, that he had a wife and daughter who came first. She needed him to be her big brother. But she didn't think she had any right to ask him to be that, not when he was holding his baby girl. "Oh gods ..." She hesitated, one hand pressing to her mouth as she struggled to hold back the tears that so obviously wanted to fall, failing as her breath hitched uncontrollably. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ....you're busy, you don't need this ..."
From the expression on Jon's face it was obvious that he was struggling to sort out what was going on. He had never seen his sister quite this distraught, at least not in recent memory, and all he really had to go by was recent memory. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, and he had never seen her this way. He had seen her happy and angry and just about everything in between, but never like this. He pushed the door open, inviting her inside without hesitation. "Don't be silly. Come in. I'm just trying to put Emily down for a nap." He had more than enough time for her, and if she had asked him, he would have insisted she was just as important to him as his wife and daughter. She was his sister, after all, and his own flesh and blood, not to mention the fact that he loved her.
It didn't take much to convince her to step inside, needing the familiarity of someone she loved close by, someone she trusted. Things had been strained between them for a long time, but the rift had begun to heal in the last year. He was never going to be the brother she remembered from her childhood, ever again, but he would just have to do. Lena needed her big brother right now. Letting the door close behind her, she shuffled into Jon and Vicki's suite of rooms, not quite knowing where to put herself, her knuckles leaving red marks under her eyes as she rubbed at the tears that hadn't quite fallen yet. "I don't mean to be in the way, I just ....I really needed to see you." For a moment, her expression crumpled, but with a monumental effort, she pulled it together all over again. "Emily comes first. I don't want to disrupt anything."
He could have handed her Emily, but he was intuitive enough to sense that whatever had brought his sister to his door was serious, and once Emily went down for her nap, they should have a few hours to talk in private, without being disturbed. It would take away from his script studying, but he was a quick study when it came to learning his lines, and she seemed to need him. "It's okay. You're not disrupting anything. I just have to put Emily down. It will only take a few minutes. Make yourself at home. There's tea and biscuits in the kitchen, if you like." This is what happens when you marry a woman who hails from England.
"Okay." That one word was shaky and more than a little tremulous, but Lena nodded in answer to Jon's suggestion. She loved her niece, but right now, she didn't want to be Aunt Lena. She wanted to be Jon's midget sister, the way they'd been when they were children, when he'd known how to solve all her problems without even breaking a sweat. "I can make tea."
He offered a smile that was reminiscent of the Jon she had once known and loved and who was buried inside him somewhere, but this new Jon was actually better than the old Jon. This Jon had survived a sort of trial by fire and had learned what was really important in life. "I won't be long. Promise," he told her, leaving her to make herself at home and make tea or whatever she wanted while he tucked Emily in for her afternoon nap.
She was still nodding as he left the room, making an effort to slow her breathing, to try and get the pain under control. She hadn't given herself any time to think about what had happened that morning, in 1975, knowing herself well enough to expect either a huge headache from the crying, or something worse. Her paintings - the paintings that Tommy had admired - would have been in danger of destruction under the flare of her temper if she'd gone to WIllow Manor. She was hurting, grief bubbling over, refusing to give her a moment to compose herself, and her first thought was that Jon would make it all better, the way he'd done when they were children. He couldn't bring Tommy back ....but just maybe he could help her start to come to terms with that terrible, unexpected loss.
Feet crunched on the gravel driveway, thumped across stone paving, paused for just a moment as the door to the big house on Maple Grove swung in. Those same feet moved forward into the house, carrying a body that was tense, stiff with the effort of holding itself together just a little bit longer. No words were offered to the Old Man who just happened to be passing through the hallway, his rheumy eyes following the painful progress of a breaking heart up the stairs with open, stern worry. The playful dance of a black and white collie was stilled by the unhappy arrival of the visitor at the door to a suite appropriated more than a year before by a then-newly-wedded couple, a single bark announcing the visitor's arrival as a weak hand knocked on the door, that breaking heart hoping against hope that there would be some kind of welcome inside.
Cosmo's bark announced a visitor's arrival at the door to that suite, though it took a moment for someone to actually answer the door. When it was finally answered, it was Jon who answered, baby Emily cradled in his arms, sucking at her fingers as he tried jiggling her to sleep. He and Vicki had only arrived home from Vancouver a few days earlier, fresh back from filming Swan Song, which was already generating Oscar buzz before it even hit theaters. Two films in one year wasn't too shabby, and he was already busy again memorizing lines and getting ready for Arsenic and Old Lace, which was due to open at the Shanachie in a few days' time.
To say that the last person he expected to find at the door was his little sister was very much an understatement, and it showed from the look of utter astonishment on his face. "Lena?" he asked, stammering a moment as he looked her over. They had become somewhat estranged since....well, he wasn't sure exactly when it had happened. They were slowly working on patching things up, but things still felt awkward between them. It didn't help matters that he couldn't remember most of what they'd been through together. "What are you doing here" What's wrong?"
His little sister looked as though she had been through hell - not in her presentation, but in the deeply haunted pain that dominated her blue eyes, swimming with tears that were only just held in check. She would have wrapped herself around her brother, if only he had not been holding Emily. Just the sight of her niece was a slap Helena did not need right now; she didn't want to be reminded that Jon didn't remember her, that he had a wife and daughter who came first. She needed him to be her big brother. But she didn't think she had any right to ask him to be that, not when he was holding his baby girl. "Oh gods ..." She hesitated, one hand pressing to her mouth as she struggled to hold back the tears that so obviously wanted to fall, failing as her breath hitched uncontrollably. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ....you're busy, you don't need this ..."
From the expression on Jon's face it was obvious that he was struggling to sort out what was going on. He had never seen his sister quite this distraught, at least not in recent memory, and all he really had to go by was recent memory. She looked like she was on the verge of tears, and he had never seen her this way. He had seen her happy and angry and just about everything in between, but never like this. He pushed the door open, inviting her inside without hesitation. "Don't be silly. Come in. I'm just trying to put Emily down for a nap." He had more than enough time for her, and if she had asked him, he would have insisted she was just as important to him as his wife and daughter. She was his sister, after all, and his own flesh and blood, not to mention the fact that he loved her.
It didn't take much to convince her to step inside, needing the familiarity of someone she loved close by, someone she trusted. Things had been strained between them for a long time, but the rift had begun to heal in the last year. He was never going to be the brother she remembered from her childhood, ever again, but he would just have to do. Lena needed her big brother right now. Letting the door close behind her, she shuffled into Jon and Vicki's suite of rooms, not quite knowing where to put herself, her knuckles leaving red marks under her eyes as she rubbed at the tears that hadn't quite fallen yet. "I don't mean to be in the way, I just ....I really needed to see you." For a moment, her expression crumpled, but with a monumental effort, she pulled it together all over again. "Emily comes first. I don't want to disrupt anything."
He could have handed her Emily, but he was intuitive enough to sense that whatever had brought his sister to his door was serious, and once Emily went down for her nap, they should have a few hours to talk in private, without being disturbed. It would take away from his script studying, but he was a quick study when it came to learning his lines, and she seemed to need him. "It's okay. You're not disrupting anything. I just have to put Emily down. It will only take a few minutes. Make yourself at home. There's tea and biscuits in the kitchen, if you like." This is what happens when you marry a woman who hails from England.
"Okay." That one word was shaky and more than a little tremulous, but Lena nodded in answer to Jon's suggestion. She loved her niece, but right now, she didn't want to be Aunt Lena. She wanted to be Jon's midget sister, the way they'd been when they were children, when he'd known how to solve all her problems without even breaking a sweat. "I can make tea."
He offered a smile that was reminiscent of the Jon she had once known and loved and who was buried inside him somewhere, but this new Jon was actually better than the old Jon. This Jon had survived a sort of trial by fire and had learned what was really important in life. "I won't be long. Promise," he told her, leaving her to make herself at home and make tea or whatever she wanted while he tucked Emily in for her afternoon nap.
She was still nodding as he left the room, making an effort to slow her breathing, to try and get the pain under control. She hadn't given herself any time to think about what had happened that morning, in 1975, knowing herself well enough to expect either a huge headache from the crying, or something worse. Her paintings - the paintings that Tommy had admired - would have been in danger of destruction under the flare of her temper if she'd gone to WIllow Manor. She was hurting, grief bubbling over, refusing to give her a moment to compose herself, and her first thought was that Jon would make it all better, the way he'd done when they were children. He couldn't bring Tommy back ....but just maybe he could help her start to come to terms with that terrible, unexpected loss.