Fairy-born and Human-bred

by Katta © 2001

Standard disclaimer

Websites notes: This story brings up the subject of slashing/hurting yourself. The web mistress do not encourage nor support this behaviour, however, with reference to the author's creative freedom this story is posted.

Part 4

Finally persuaded to let himself out of the doctor’s house, Jimmy bumped into one of the Gallaghers on the street. He still hadn’t quite learned which one was which, since this was the first time he had seen one without the other, but he vaguely recalled Brendan being the charming one. In which case this one, with the perpetual scowl, would have to be Paddy.

”How is she?” the young Irishman asked, and Jimmy shrugged.

”Asleep.”

”Mhm.” The scowl deepened. ”I’ve got a feeling Bren has to take some of the responsibility.”

He looked Jimmy over and his facial expression lightened to a form of melancholy. ”You look like shit. Care to come over and have a drink before you go change your shirt?”

”I don’t drink,” Jimmy said, a lot more casually than he would have only a year ago. ”Company rules.”

Paddy looked as shook up as if Jimmy had said his religious preferences was to offer a black she-goat every new moon, but he soon got over it. ”Well, there’s got to be something your company doesn’t forbid?”

Jimmy tried to smile and succeeded remarkably well. ”I could have a sarsaparilla with you, I guess.”

”Sarsaparilla,” Paddy muttered with a grimace, but didn’t make any attempt to chide Jimmy for it. ”Yes, you do that. I’ll... have something stronger, if you don’t mind. Feel I need it at a time like this.”

”Sure, go ahead,” Jimmy said, following the other man into the saloon. He couldn’t help but wonder what Paddy thought of Lena, if that scowl meant something more than a generally displeased way of looking at life. Then again, if it had been one of the riders in there, Jimmy would have felt even stronger about it than he already did, so there might be actual friendship involved. She just didn’t seem like the kind of girl that made many friends, though. And from the other brother’s comments... ”What did you mean, your brother had to take responsibility?”

Paddy had just taken his first sip of bitter, and now put the glass down with a sigh. ”It could be completely unrelated, I don’t know. But there was this story some time ago that just wouldn’t break. A politician -- we all suspected he was crooked, but we couldn’t get the evidence. Then Brendan suggested that Lena...” Paddy spun the glass between his hands, words failing him. ”I don’t know the details, but she broke the story alright.”

”And you think that...” Well, why would he be surprised? ”I guess that’s something she would do.”

”No, it isn’t.” Paddy’s accent thickened, and his deep green eyes met Jimmy’s. ”I know it may not seem like a big deal for a girl like her, but I’ve heard her say more than once that ’at least I choose my men out of fancy and not for fortune like the honourable women’. Her standards may not be... well, mine, but she’s always been truthful and loyal. She went behind that man’s back for a story, and he may have deserved it, but I think it’s eating at her. I’m not saying it’s the reason, but she manages quite well to do stupid things on her own, she doesn’t need Bren’s encouragement.”

There was something in his voice even Jimmy could detect, and he asked with a bit of caution, ”So, how do you feel about Lena?”

The answer surprised him. ”Have you ever read ’Sense and Sensibility’?”

”Can’t say I have,” said Jimmy, who had in fact never heard of it. It didn’t sound like a good read, either.

”There’s this girl in that story... she’s treated badly by the man she loves and so she settles down with a friend, marries a man she doesn’t really love.” He paused, watching his glass with utmost intensity. ”I can’t really see that happening.”

Standing up, he patted Jimmy in the back. ”Come on, you need to get out of that shirt. People are staring.”

”Come over here,” Sandy said, pulling at Ike’s hand. She was lying down in their bed to rest her back, but her head was neither tired nor aching, and she had explained her need for company. Her husband obliged, sitting down next to her, and she took his hand to her belly. He watched her frowning face expectantly.

”*Jo*, he was all at it a moment ago... come now Joshua, show your father how strong you are.” She gave herself a push and was rewarded with a movement in the opposite direction. ”There you go! Isn’t he the fighter?”

Ike’s smile was even prouder than Sandy’s. *Definitely.* His eyes narrowed in jest as he continued, *Are you so sure it’s a he?*

”Of course he is,” Sandy said, stroking her belly. ”Otherwise he couldn’t be a Joshua.”

The logic of that was irreproachable, but there was still something to be said: *Don’t I get a say in the naming?*

”No.” Sandy had a smile on her face, but he could see she was serious. ”It’s... important to me. Symbolic, I guess you could say.” She saw his expression and gave a slight grimace. ”I know it sounds selfish. And you can name the next one, I promise.”

He lay down with his ear against her stomach, but obviously the baby made no sounds. It didn’t even move anymore. *Next one?*

He looked so eager she had to laugh. ”Hey, give me a chance to get this one out first, will you?”

There was a knock on the door, and Ike contemplated taking his hand away, but waited while Sandy asked, ”Who is it?”

”It’s Teaspoon, can I come in?”

They exchanged a glance. ”Well, if you must, but we’re not decent.”

There was a low chuckle, and Teaspoon entered the room, squinting amiably at them. ”Well, that’s a pity, because Ike has the next ride.”

Sandy leaned back with a mock sigh, and Ike grinned at her. *You are going to be so much more tolerable once the baby is born.*

”Right now I’d be happy just to get rid of this ache so I can get back to work,” she replied. ”It’s not fair that you’re the only one to work.”

Ike was too busy getting his boots on to give a proper reply, but his expression was one of saddest slavery. Teaspoon chuckled at that.

”Isn’t it strange that every one of the boys who signed up for this job -- voluntarily I might add -- finds it so highly indurable?” Throwing a stern glance at Ike he continued, ”If you don’t pay more respect I just might send you to Saint Louis.”

”Saint Louis?” Sandy said, suddenly sitting up straight, which surprised Teaspoon.

”Yes, I have some legal protocols that needs to be sent there for evaluation, and I’ve been asked to have one of my boys take it all the way. But don’t you worry, it won’t be Ike.”

Sandy had an expression that even Ike couldn’t interpret properly, and he realized even the couple of guesses he could have made were way off the charts when she said, ”Why don’t you ask Jimmy?”

Two pairs of eyes were now staring at her, and two mouths catching flies. Finally Teaspoon shut his and asked, ”Are you sure Jimmy would like that?”

”I think he would *really* like that,” she said, then lying down again, making an interpretation of mysterious madonna pre birth. Since she obviously wasn’t going to elaborate, Teaspoon just shrugged.

”Sure, I’ll ask him. Ike, ten more minutes, then I *demand* that you go out there.”

Teaspoon left the room and Ike turned to Sandy, wanting an explanation.

”alright, since you’re going to work and leave me all alone, here’s the short version. My by now completely miserable girl is hitting the road and has managed to pick up a story -- mainly by coaxing at the Gallaghers. So, by this time tomorrow, she’ll be on her way to a theatre group doing Othello on tours with a coloured lead. Now, I don’t like the idea of her running from a potential good thing, but it just so happens Saint Louis is among their next stops.”

Well, alright, that was a somewhat sane explanation. *You playing matchmaker?*

Her smile was completely innocent. ”Of course. Now, come over here and say bye-bye to Joshua.”

Lena was cutting vegetables with the frantic efficiency of a medieval assassin, and all in all, it was a sight that made Buck stop short in the doorway. He still didn’t like Lena, but he had a vague notion that the combination of her hands and sharp objects wasn’t a good one. For one thing, it made him feel guilty. ”Are you sure you should be doing that?”

She hadn’t noticed him before, and now her eyebrows flew up. ”Rachel’s in town, and I don’t think I’m the only one getting hungry. Beside, I have to do something to earn my keep.”

He proceeded slowly, still uncomfortable. He’d heard that she had gotten fired from Mrs. Warren for her ungodly attempt to harm herself, and that she would be leaving soon. That made it a little bit easier to stand being around her. Very little.

”Yeah, well, I was just thinking...” His eyes drifted towards her bandaged wrists, and she gave a snort.

”Take away the knife from my hands, I might get *ideas*,” she scorned him, although the glee was evident in her eyes.

His eyes narrowed. There was just no being nice to this girl.

”Can’t you for once try to act like a decent human being?” he asked, and immediately felt a pang of guilt, even though she bent down her head over the vegetables as if nothing had been said at all. ”I’m... I’m sorry. For what I said, and... you know, for everything.”

”I didn’t realize you were responsible for everything,” she said, chopping fast. He got a strange feeling that if he kept this up, someone was about to get cut on that knife, and it wouldn’t be her. But he had no idea as to why. He was trying to *apologize* for crying out loud.

”I was making you miserable.”

”You have a much too high opinion of yourself.” She finally stopped chopping and turned around. ”This has nothing to do with you. It doesn’t even have anything to do with that holy cow in town. For reasons that has nothing to do with anyone else, I found I couldn’t be loyal to myself anymore, and I drew some rather stupid and drunk conclusions from this. If you’re feeling guilty because you perhaps wished for me to shut my stupid mouth, that doesn’t make you any more responsible, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to indulge in your own narcissism by apologizing for something you have no cause to regret.”

Through some bizarre physical mechanism that she could probably make money from if she so wished, she had managed to say all of that without drawing her breath. Now she did, and he managed to get a word in.

”Maybe, but I still said some things I shouldn’t have.”

”Were you wrong?”

That puzzled him, which she clearly noticed, clarifying in an insufferably smug voice, ”Did things you said somehow differ from the truth?”

”Well, no... but...”

”Then you have no reason to apologize for them. I cut myself. That doesn’t make me right. Even if *you* had cut me it wouldn’t have made me right. It would have weakened your point, since supporting an argument with violence doesn’t exactly enhance its credibility, but it wouldn’t have proven mine.”

He stared at her, not because he hadn’t understood what she said -- it was quite logical -- but because of the way she said it. It irritated him immensely. ”You’re still talking about this as if it was something from a book. It’s your life.”

”What’s the difference?” she asked, and her voice was flat. She took a deep breath. ”I’m glad I’m going away. Right now, I could use some actors and reporters turning matters of life and death into a good story. Living is so much harder.”

”You should try it some time,” he said, making one last attempt to reach out and understand. It seemed like such a cold place where she was.

She shook her head slowly. ”When I leave, will you give Sandy another chance? They’re so right for each other, and I think they really want you to be a part of that.”

”I will.”

”Good. Then get out of the kitchen and give me some room to work.”

Buck stepped outside, knowing that they couldn’t have been more different if one of them had been from the moon, and it definitely put every disagreement behind them. Their worlds were entirely separated, two islands of isolations that didn’t mix with any others and least of all with each other’s. All you could do was to leave it be. And although it was a few days until she was leaving, this was their definite parting. Goodbye enemy, you are no longer of any concern to me.

”Take up the anchor, we’re ready to go!” Brendan cheered as they got packed into the wagon.

”It’s ’weigh’ anchor,” Lena said with a wistful sigh, but soon shook off any girlish weakness and reached out a hand to get Jimmy into the wagon as well.

”Said your goodbyes?” he asked her. He was feeling a bit uncomfortable. For one thing, he was used to his missions being carried out on horseback, and even though he was well aware that this was not one of those ”ride one hundred day and night” times, he had almost preferred if it would have been. Not that he minded the thought of travelling with a young woman -- it was the men included in the bargain that was the big problem. In this trio of friends, he was the one who didn’t quite belong, and he’d have loved to figure out what they all felt for each other, because it looked pretty complicated to him. Of course, that was a good word to describe what was going on with him and Lena, too. It would surprise him if she ever had a simple relationship with anyone.

Right now she was digging through her things, but looked up with a grimace at his question. ”I’m no good at goodbyes.”

”So you’re just going to sneak off?” he asked, but Sandy was already leaving the house and came over to them. Lena’s grimace changed to a grin, even though she still looked decidedly uncomfortable. Due to her pregnancy, these days Sandy waddled like a duck.

She looked decidedly more grumpy than her friend, which could indicate an unwillingness to say goodbye from her side as well. Jimmy thought he knew the girls well and didn’t expect any sentimental greetings, but was still surprised when the only words from Sandy’s mouth were, ”Painted maypole.”

If there had been any doubt this was meant as an insult, it went away when Lena firmly replied, ”You puppet, you.”

She then promptly returned to her house, without another word. Lena leaned back with a satisfied smirk, and the Gallagher brothers were laughing, but Jimmy just gaped. ”What on earth was *that* all about?”

”A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Lena said, resting her arm on the wagon floor behind his back. ”I’ll explain it to you some day.”

As they started the ride and the others threw some more inexplicable references to each other, Jimmy started to regret agreeing to this trip. After an hour had passed, he was positive that he hated the two Irishmen.

”I don’t like you going there. Not with a coloured Othello,” Paddy said with a concern that made Jimmy take notice. They were talking about the theatre company Lena was to follow, that much he knew, and although he didn’t know what Othello was it was clear from Paddy’s expression that it wasn’t exactly something coloured people did regularly.

”That is part of the story, isn’t it?” Lena asked sweetly. Too sweetly.

”Yeah, but at this day and age? They’re asking to get strung up. And you too, if you go with them. Not that it has ever stopped you before.”

”Bloody right, it hasn’t!” she said. ”This is the most stupidly courageous show anyone has been playing in these parts for Lord knows how many years, and I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Don’t be such a spoilsport.”

”I saw their Twelfth Night...”

”It was brilliant!” Lena exclaimed. ”Shocking, I admit, but brilliant. It’s very rare to find something that’s both.”

”That’s right, leave the girl alone,” Brendan said, smacking his brother on the head. ”She feels at home there.”

Lena sat up straight, staring at Brendan in amazement. ”I do believe that was a compliment.”

Brendan’s grin was so wide that Jimmy felt a need to enter the discussion. ”So, what’s this Othello thing?”

”It’s a play,” said Paddy.

”A play,” Brendan repeated in disgust. ”Is that all you can say? It’s a great tragedy, in which a Moorish --coloured -- captain marries an Italian maid, but his love for her is poisoned by jealous gossip, leading to the point where he murders her in a rage... only to find out too late that the rumours were false and that she was true to him.”

”He marries a white girl?” Jimmy asked incredulously.

”Now you know why I don’t want her there,” Paddy grumbled. ”Right now I don’t think it would be safe to set up that play even with a painted white man in the lead. And this is a lot worse than that.”

”But that’s the beauty of it all!” Lena protested.

Jimmy didn’t listen much to what she was saying. He didn’t know if Paddy’s pessimism was justified, but he knew that even if it was, it wouldn’t stop Lena from going. Crazy as it may seem to everyone else, the possibility of a good story mattered more to her than issues of life and death. It didn’t really surprise him. It just scared the living hell out of him.

”Here we are,” Brendan said as he halted the wagon outside the hotel in Saint Louis. He didn’t bother to get off, but Paddy jumped down to help with the luggage. Lena swung her own suitcase down before anyone could come near it, and Paddy instead found himself holding Jimmy’s bags.

”Thanks anyway,” Jimmy said, taking them from the Irishman’s hands. They stood around for a while, uncertain of what to do, but Lena ignored them both and dragged her suitcase to the hotel.

”I’m sure there are suitable threats I could come up with right now,” Paddy said, moving over to take the reins again, ”but I guess I’ll have to settle for ’good luck’.” He reached out one of his big hands and shook Jimmy’s.

”Leaving already?” Lena asked, standing on the hotel porch with no intent of going back to the wagon.

”That’s right, you little pseudo-Tan bird!” Brendan shouted from his place on the wagon seat.

She laughed at that and said, ”Well, in that case I do bid you farewell -- paddies!”

”Mad, both of them,” Paddy muttered, shaking his head, but he sat up as well, and within a few minutes Jimmy and Lena were standing alone outside the hotel, staring at each other.

”Are you coming in or not?” she asked. ”We both have work to do, after all, we had better get ourselves a couple of rooms.”

He followed her inside and listened as she told the receptionist exactly what she wanted, how much, and at what time. If anyone wondered what their relationship was, they certainly didn’t say anything. Jimmy started to wonder just how much Lena had been travelling with strange men, to act so professional about it, and then he realized that professional was exactly what she *was*.

”And I need a copy of the bill for the newspaper. Just for me, the gentleman is with the Marshal’s office.”

In all this time, he hadn’t gotten a single word in, and now she turned back and looked at him, smiling. ”I’m really just bringing my bags in, and then I must get to work. How about you?”

”Probably should, too,” he agreed. He didn’t have much in the way of luggage and would have gone directly to the Marshal’s office if he were alone.

”So, dinner at eight?”

”Yeah.” He couldn’t get out of working, that was what he was here for, but nobody could deny a man some dinner.

Nobody, it turned out, except Marshal Thackeray. By eight thirty, he was still going through old protocols, asking Jimmy about everything there was to know. Half of the questions he couldn’t answer, and some he didn’t even understand.

”Can you explain to me the circumstances around Henry Muncie’s death?” Thackeray asked.

”Henry Muncie?”

”According to the files, he impersonated you.”

”Ah... yeah, that’s right. I remember him,” Jimmy said, although he hadn’t remembered him until Thackeray had said that. He certainly couldn’t remember all the details that were expected of him. ”There was a bounty hunter killed him, thought he was me... isn’t that in the notes?”

”No, it isn’t.” Thackeray leaned his chin in his hands and looked even more irritated than he had before, and not half as amused as he had been when this whole thing started. ”As I’ve explained to you, I have all respect for Marshal Hunter as a colleague, but his administrative skills leave much to be desired. So if you’re going to frown at anyone, I’d prefer it if it were him. I’m not responsible for this, and whether you believe it or not, protocols are important. If there’s anything fishy in a case, they’re where you can go to find it. Hunter is making himself wide open for criticism, and I don’t like it.”

”Yes, sir, but...” Jimmy didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t sound immature and stupid, but he was more than half an hour late and he said it anyway: ”I need to get to dinner, sir.”

”Oh.” Thackeray obviously hadn’t thought of that. ”There’s some bread and cheese in the cupboard. If you wait a minute, I’ll make us some coffee as well.”
”No, sir, you don’t understand. I have a date.”

”Is that so?” Thackeray was sympathetic, but not sympathetic enough. ”But you also have work to do, don’t you? Is this mysterious beauty of yours going to disappear tomorrow?”

”Well, no.” And she wasn’t a beauty either, but that was beside the point.
”So then you can see her tomorrow.” Thackeray dismissed the Muncie case and put some water to boil on the stove before reaching out for another protocol. ”Al Mecklenburg -- the guy’s actually called Al Mecklenburg? What do you know. Were you present at the time of his arrest?”

Jimmy sighed. ”No, sir.”

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