Welcome To The Harem
Catching Rainbows by Vesper (Parts 3-5 of 7)
Summary: Gotta stand still to catch rainbows. Sequel to "Chasing Shadows." Jimmy/Yves. Rated PG-13
Part Two "Hey, Uncle Jimmy, Johnny Bravo's almost on." "Don't want to watch it right now. Watch it with Jess." At that, Michael turned to look across the room at his uncle, giving him a disbelieving stare. It was wasted. Jimmy was hidden behind a newspaper. Michael stood up and walked across the living room, saying, "She's napping." He plopped down next to Jimmy, and stuck his head into the space between the newspaper and Jimmy. "Hey, why are you reading the obituaries?" Jimmy shut the paper with a loud rustle, folding it up. "No reason," he said. "Oh come on, you're lookin' for stuff, just like those Lone Gunguys or whatever." "Lone Gunmen," Jimmy corrected. "Yeah." Undaunted, Michael continued eagerly, "So, did you find anything, like more info about that water car or stories about Mulder or, or, or--" "I was just reading the paper." "Uh-huh." "Uh-huh," Jimmy mimicked. "You really miss them, don't you?" Jimmy nodded and looked down, fiddling with a corner of the newspaper. "Umm, Uncle Jimmy?" The hesistancy in Michael's voice brought Jimmy's head up. It wasn't often Michael was unsure in his manner. "What?" "Why did you come to live with Mom and me?" A brief flash of pain flickered through Jimmy's eyes and he looked down. Michael continued unaware, "Mom wouldn't tell me. She said I should ask you." * The white stones that spread as far as the eye could see were sad, beautiful testaments to the heroes of America. Jimmy and Michael had trekked through the snow to the three grave markers. Michael had knelt to look at each memorial, before coming to stand beside Jimmy. They both stood in front of the three gravestones, head bowed. Here, the ground was still covered with pristine snow, and the two bare-limbed trees just beyond created a stark landscape, no less beautiful for its barrenness. A bird landed on the branch of one tree, uttered a warbling note and was silent again. Jimmy said, "Not what you thought it would be, huh?" "Yeah." "I shouldn't have brought you here." "It's okay. I wanted to see." Jimmy started back toward the dark blue Ford Explorer, Michael trudging a few feet behind him. He caught up to Jimmy, walking beside him. "Hey, Uncle Jimmy, can we go play football in the park?" "What? Yeah, sure." They walked on, both involved in their own thoughts, until Jimmy caught sight of some movement out of the corner of his eyes. When he turned to look, all he saw was a dark figure against the horizon, a woman, walking away. * Michael was tossing a football up and down, the ball coming dangerously close to hitting the ceiling of the kitchen. "Watch it, Michael, or you'll put a hole in the ceiling." "Mom, you tell me that every time and I still haven't done it yet." Jessica hid a smile and said, "Well, there's always a first time." She flipped a hamburger. Usually Jimmy helped her while she made dinner, but today he was conspicuously absent. He and Michael had come in from their trip to the park, both ruddy from the cold and looking like "mud monsters" as Michael had put it. She'd sent them both to clean up and that was the last she'd seen of Jimmy for an hour. She heard a thunk and wrenched her attention back to Michael. He was looking at the football and when he noticed her staring at him, he hid it quickly behind his back. "Sorry," he said. "Put the ball away, it's almost time for dinner anyway. Hey, Michael, where'd Jimmy disappear to?" Michael shrugged. "I don't know. I think he's upstairs." Jessica frowned. "Michael, what happened while you were out?" "Nothing. We just played football, that's all. Why?" She turned off the stove and piled the hamburgers on a plate. She handed the plate to Michael and said, "Michael, would you get out the vegetables and chop them up for me?" He made a disgruntled face. "Do I have to?" She narrowed her eyes at him, giving him a mock glare. "Yes. I have to go talk to your uncle for a few minutes." "Okay." As she walked through the living room, through the small hall that led to the stairs, she could hear Michael clattering through the silverware. She stopped at the foot of the stairs, and called back to Michael, "And set the table!" "Mom!" The door to Jimmy's room was open and she could see him sitting on the edge of his bed holding a beaten up photo, wallet sized. She leaned against the door jamb. "Are you all right, Jimmy?" "No." She came in, shutting the door partway behind her, so if Michael came upstairs she'd hear him. She sat down beside him. "What happened while you were out?" He shrugged. "Michael and I played football." "That's Michael's story, Jimmy. Don't lie to me. I'm the one that knows, remember? Besides, you were never very good at it." He sighed and said, "Michael asked why I'd come to live here, so I told him." "You told him about Yves?" He shook his head, "No. I can't. I mean, I tried, but I couldn't. So I told him when the Lone Gunmen," he swallowed, "I didn't have a place to stay, so I came here. He told me, he wanted to see them, so we went to Arlington. She was there." Jess said, "Oh, Jimmy," and her voice was full of sympathy. "What are you going to do?" "I'm gonna find her." "You know, Jimmy, I've never interfered in any of your decisions, but I remember when you called me. You were a mess. I really don't want you to go through that again." "I have to know, Jess, if this is it. You didn't give up until you had to." She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "Sean cheated on me, Jimmy, that's why we divorced. Not because I wanted it, but because he broke my trust. I don't want to be devil's advocate here, but she's done the same. Even if you find her, no matter how much you love her, it might not be enough." "Sometimes it can be," he countered. She stood up and pulled on his arm, but he didn't budge. "Come downstairs and have dinner, Jimmy." When he still didn't stand up, she let go of his arm and walked to the door. She pushed it open, but hesitated a moment in the doorway. She looked back at Jimmy. "I just want you to be happy, Jimmy." He nodded. He said, "I know." * Part Three A Sarah McLachlan song was on the jukebox, the soft voice accompanied by slurring guitars and soft drums. The sound drifted through the bar, much like the cigarette smoke, hazy, liquid, sadly sensuous. "Unravel me, a distant chord, on the outside is forgotten the constant need to get along..." Yves was talking into a tiny silver cell phone. "No, I haven't seen him, but I know he comes here." She listened, an impatient _expression settling on her face. "It's only a matter of time, Agent Perkins." A man sat down beside her at the bar, and she spared him a quick glance. A stereotypical businessman, grey pinstripe, loosened tie. Yves brought her attention back to the phone. "All right. I will." She clicked the phone shut and put it away in a pocket of her coat. The man beside her had ordered a beer. He took a sip of it and asked, "Tough day?" He took out a cigarette and lit it. He offered her one and she noted the gold band on his left hand. She said, "I don't smoke and I don't cheat." He gaped at her, before crushing the cigarette in front of her and turning away. She heard him mutter a curse, but she didn't pay attention. She sifted her fingers through the crumbled tobacco and whispered, "Whatever else I've done, I won't start now." She sensed someone else sit down beside her and looked over. He said, "Hello, Yves," and it was as if she'd seen him just yesterday, instead of over ten months ago. He continued, "Didn't think I'd find you, did you?" She winced at the accusation in his voice. She looked down at her drink and said, her voice weary, "I wasn't exactly hiding, Jimmy. No reason to now." "I know you were there, at Arlington, Yves." She felt anger start to rise and snapped, "I didn't know you would be. Why are you here?" Instead of home with the boy, she wanted to say, whatever family he is to you, but she knew better than to jump to conclusions. The kid was too old to be Jimmy's son, but the resemblance.... The muscles tightened along Jimmy's jaw-line as he clenched his teeth. He said, "I, God, Yves, you can be so, so--" "Cold? I thought..." she drew a deep, shuddering breath. She could feel the start of the slow burn in her throat, and the heat in her eyes. "Jimmy, I thought we said our goodbyes. Now you show up, and expect-- I can't go through this again. I can't have you just...." She blinked and her tears fell. She looked down, wishing he would just leave. Let her be alone. He moved, reached out a hand to touch her face, but she shied away. His voice was soft with incomprehension. "What happened to you, Yves?" "You." She met his gaze. "You happened. There are no other men like you, Jimmy. I should know. If you're just here to find out what I was doing there, there's no reason I can give you but the truth. They were something special, the closest thing to friends I ever had." She shook her head. "I really didn't know you would be there." "Would you still have come, even if you'd known?" "Would you?" "I came here, didn't I? Yves, I don't blame you, not for anything." "This isn't fixable, Jimmy. You know that, and I know that. There's this gulf between us now and all this pain, and all the forgiveness you might give me isn't going to make it better." "I could give you more if I knew you would accept it." He wouldn't offer unless he were free. She searched his face, seeing no lie in his eyes, seeing the same emotion she'd seen that day in the coffee shop. Except it had changed, become lived with and accepted, not as blind as it once was and for the first time she allowed herself to wonder what his life had been like since she'd last spoken to him. He reached out, smoothing the wetness from her cheeks. She kept still, barely breathing. He cleared his throat, the sound like a crack of a whip in the silence that had wrapped around them, all the other sounds forgotten. The song on the jukebox finished and another one started. Jimmy said, "I came by to, to tell you I read the obituary. I know about your father. All the things that kept you hiding-- they're over, right? You have nothing keeping you from--" "Just because my father's dead, doesn't mean it's over. There are things you don't know about, Jimmy, things I need to finish." "Things I wouldn't understand," he stated and she could hear the faint tone of bitterness laced through it. "No, Jimmy, things that would get you killed. No matter how cruelly I treated you in the past, I wouldn't want that to happen. You don't know how I wish I could take back some of the things I said to you, but no matter what I would say it wouldn't erase any of it." "I'm sick and tired of hearing excuses, Yves. Tell me exactly why--" "My father was murdered, Jimmy, right in front of me. I know who did it and I'm trying to find him. That's why, because no matter how much I would wish it, I can't change my life! Now, if you'll excuse me." She grabbed her leather coat and slipped off the stool. "Yves--" he called after her. She swung back around, saying, "I can't take your caring right now, Jimmy," but he over spoke her. "How long before you stop running, Yves?" These words, so close to her dream, caused her mouth to fall open. She would call it coincidence, but it wasn't. It was knowledge. He knew her so well. Always had. He continued, "Because, it's only so long before I stop waiting for you to stop." He shook his head, his face resigned, "You know where to find me." He walked past her, and she knew he didn't want her to follow. She'd pushed too hard, once again. But as she stood there, watching him go, it occurred to her that no matter how angry he'd sounded, he hadn't said goodbye. * Part Four Yves stood in the enclosed porch, her hand poised to ring the doorbell. She looked around the small space, noting the plant pots, full of dirt, but empty of plants. Too cold to grow anything outside, she thought. There was a white wrought metal table, with wicker chairs. An oil lantern was set on top of the circular table, along with a candle she suspected was citronella. It suited him, this two-story brick house in the suburbs of Newark, New Jersey, the unassuming nature of it all, the normality. She didn't belong here. She dropped her hand and turned to go. She heard the creak of the door behind her and turned back to find herself face to face with a diminutive, green-eyed woman with a spray of golden freckles across her nose. They looked at each other for a moment before the woman said, "What are you doing here?" Her coat was open, and Yves noticed that she was wearing hospital scrubs beneath. "I'm, I'm looking for Jimmy Bond. I'm Yves Harlow." The woman raised her eyebrows. "But you already knew that, didn't you?" "I'm sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all, "but you just missed him. Was there a reason you were looking for him?" She looked down, buttoning her coat. "No. Thank you." She turned to go, but the woman said, "Ms. Harlow." Yves couldn't think why this woman would call her back, but she stopped anyway. "Is there really no reason, or do you not trust me with that reason?" Yves stared at her, incredulous at the nerve this woman had. "Excuse me, but who are you?" "Jessica Lewis, Jimmy's sister." "His sister? So, the boy..." "Michael, my son. Jimmy told me he found you, talked to you." "He never told me he had a sister." Jessica tipped her head, a brief nod. "You probably never asked. He told me about you. You treated him despicably, you know." She said it so coolly, that Yves almost didn't catch the anger underneath, but it was there nonetheless. Yves said, "I don't have to--" "Yes, you do," Jessica interrupted. "You owe me that much. I had to pick up the pieces, so you can listen to what I have to say. I don't know you, I don't really understand your reasons for breaking his heart, but don't come here wanting to see him, for 'no reason'. He wants a clear yes or no from you and even then he might not give up. I love my brother dearly, and I can't stand the thought of you playing with his heart." "Jimmy knows all my reasons--" "Does he really? You won't let him in. Let me tell you something, Yves, Jimmy will love you forever. He's like that." Yves looked away, and Jess said, sounding more sincere this time, "I'm sorry, I can be too blunt, sometimes." "Something you and Jimmy share in common," Yves said dryly. "Have you said your piece?" "Almost. I just have one question." "What?" "Did you ever care for him at all?" Yves looked down. "Well?" Yves looked up again, her face hard. "You don't have the right to ask me that question." Jessica smiled, a wide, friendly smile, and it so baffled Yves it wiped away her anger, leaving a confused _expression. Jess said, "Of course not, but I think I got my answer anyway. It was good to meet you, Yves. I got what I needed to say out of my system. I hope it wasn't too hurtful. If we meet again, call me Jess. I hope we do--we can work on being friends." "We might not, you know." "Then again, we might." Yves nodded and said, "Have a good day, Mrs. Lewis." * continued
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