![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
holliCurrent Robin has Dana going crazy, right? I didn't read the issues in question, because DIE WILLINGHAM DIE, but I seem to recall that being mentioned somewhere. And even if she didn't actually, it's not a bad idea, and I seem to have used it as a jumping-off point for some fic.
When Dana Drake checks herself out of the clinic, her stepson Tim is waiting for her on the sidewalk outside.
"I... Tim?" She hadn't been expecting him. She hadn't even heard from him, not once, since Jack-- since. And she hadn't been planning to go home from here. There had been a vague idea of taking a cab to the nearest hotel, and working out something from there, but Tim's presence has chased away these thoughts.
Tim looks as though he hasn't slept properly in weeks. His hands are balled up into fists and shoved in his coat pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. The seasons changed without Dana noticing; it's winter, and it smells like snow. "We don't have to go back to the house," he says. "I got an apartment. I've already moved some of your things there, if you-- if you want to go." He doesn't looks like he expects her to. He looks like he wants her to.
Something occurs to Dana, something she'd forgotten in the last few terrible weeks. Tim is the only one who's anything like family that she has left. She'd talked to Jack about adopting him, once or twice. Even though she never made it official, Tim is still her husband's son. And if he needs her, she probably needs him more.
***
The apartment is small, but it's in a good part of town, only a few miles from where they used to live. It smells like fresh paint. Most of the furniture is from their old place, but her bed is new, and the kitchen table as well. The fridge is full of food: casseroles, a deli platter, an unopened fruit basket. Hardly anything looks like it's been touched, which isn't surprising. Tim doesn't look like he's been eating much, and Dana's not hungry either.
Dana's clothes are already hanging in the closet when she arrives. There's a picture of her and Jack on the dresser; Dana tips it face-down as soon as she sees it. She'll be able to look at him again someday, she thinks, but it's still too soon. She's pretty sure Tim feels the same way-- there's a picture of both his parents, when they were alive, on his nightstand, but it's been turned towards the wall.
This is how they spend the first few weeks, drifting around each other, ghosts in a place they have no reason to haunt. Tim is nearly mute, only talking to her to ask if she needs anything. He hasn't been back to school yet-- Dana realized it, and thought to ask him, a few days after she moved in. He takes a few moments to realize she's spoken. "I was going to graduate a year early anyway," he finally says. "I don't really need this semester." It's the longest speech he gives all week. Dana knows she should try to help him, talk to him, but she's too withdrawn herself. He spends most of his time in his locked room, and only answers when she knocks half the time. They're no good for each other, she thinks, without Jack around.
They're forced back into the world by a knock on the door, on a day Dana has spent staring out the kitchen window and Tim has spent in his room with the door shut. Dana's still so muzzy-headed, so slow to react, and doesn't translate the sound into a need to get up until Tim's already been to the door and let them in. They sounds like kids, Tim's age, and Dana can't make out what he's saying to them. He sounds angry, by the tone. She gets up and goes to see.
There are two boys and a girl, and they look worried and unhappy. The taller boy has one hand on Tim's shoulder, and the girl is holding the other. The shorter boy is frowning, bouncing up and down in place a little. "We thought we should come see you," he says, sounding apologetic. "We're sorry we didn't sooner. But Cassie thought--"
"*I* didn't," the girl says. "Diana did. She said we should give you some time to yourself." She rolls her eyes at the thought.
"So did-- um. My aunt and uncle," the tall boy says. "But then we remembered what *happens* when you get too much time to yourself."
Dana coughs quietly, not wanting to interrupt, and all four of them jump, turning to face her like-- like they expect her to *attack,* or something. "Oh," Tim says. "Sorry. This is my stepmother, Dana. Dana, this is Cassie, and Conner, and Bart."
The boys mumble polite how-do-you-dos, but Cassie steps forward and says, gently, "Mrs. Drake. I just-- we're so sorry about what happened. I hope you're doing okay." Dana realizes that she's still wearing her bathrobe, and she hasn't washed her hair in-- well, a while. They must think she's completely fallen apart, Dana realizes, and realizes further that they're not wrong.
"Thank you, Cassie," she says, and for once fights the trembling in her voice. It comes through anyway, but it's a start. "We're holding up, I think." She thinks they're really not, and it looks like Cassie doesn't either.
It's at that point that Dana becomes aware of a faint beeping, the sound coming from the direction of Tim's open door. The tall boy-- Conner-- says "Tim, is that--"
"Yeah," Tim says. "This is-- not a good time. I should, I-- give me a minute." He disappears into his room, and the beeping stops. He returns carrying a backpack. "I have to go," he says. "Can you guys wait here? I won't be long, I don't think."
"Shouldn't we come with you?" Cassie asks. "I mean, if it's--"
"No. That isn't... a good idea. Not right now. Just-- stay with Dana, okay?"
Dana wants to protest-- she's the only adult here, after all, and shouldn't need looking after-- but these children seem more capable than she has felt in weeks, than she expects to feel ever again. They follow her back into the kitchen. "Would you like anything to eat?" she asks.
"Oh, I couldn't impose--" begins Cassie.
"I just ate a little while ago--" says Conner.
"I'm starving," says Bart, and the other two glare at him. "Well, I *am,*" he says. "*Sorry.*"
"It's all right," Dana says. "We have plenty of food." She goes to fix him up a plate, and doesn't miss the worried looks the three of them exchange when they see the fridge full of untouched food. Dana is suddenly rather relieved that she's done the dishes recently.
Once Bart is safely fed, Dana feels she ought to at least try to have a conversation. "So," she says. "How do you know Tim?"
In our next installment: Comfort food, the five stages, and girl talk. And the inevitable Tim angst.
When Dana Drake checks herself out of the clinic, her stepson Tim is waiting for her on the sidewalk outside.
"I... Tim?" She hadn't been expecting him. She hadn't even heard from him, not once, since Jack-- since. And she hadn't been planning to go home from here. There had been a vague idea of taking a cab to the nearest hotel, and working out something from there, but Tim's presence has chased away these thoughts.
Tim looks as though he hasn't slept properly in weeks. His hands are balled up into fists and shoved in his coat pockets, his shoulders hunched against the cold. The seasons changed without Dana noticing; it's winter, and it smells like snow. "We don't have to go back to the house," he says. "I got an apartment. I've already moved some of your things there, if you-- if you want to go." He doesn't looks like he expects her to. He looks like he wants her to.
Something occurs to Dana, something she'd forgotten in the last few terrible weeks. Tim is the only one who's anything like family that she has left. She'd talked to Jack about adopting him, once or twice. Even though she never made it official, Tim is still her husband's son. And if he needs her, she probably needs him more.
***
The apartment is small, but it's in a good part of town, only a few miles from where they used to live. It smells like fresh paint. Most of the furniture is from their old place, but her bed is new, and the kitchen table as well. The fridge is full of food: casseroles, a deli platter, an unopened fruit basket. Hardly anything looks like it's been touched, which isn't surprising. Tim doesn't look like he's been eating much, and Dana's not hungry either.
Dana's clothes are already hanging in the closet when she arrives. There's a picture of her and Jack on the dresser; Dana tips it face-down as soon as she sees it. She'll be able to look at him again someday, she thinks, but it's still too soon. She's pretty sure Tim feels the same way-- there's a picture of both his parents, when they were alive, on his nightstand, but it's been turned towards the wall.
This is how they spend the first few weeks, drifting around each other, ghosts in a place they have no reason to haunt. Tim is nearly mute, only talking to her to ask if she needs anything. He hasn't been back to school yet-- Dana realized it, and thought to ask him, a few days after she moved in. He takes a few moments to realize she's spoken. "I was going to graduate a year early anyway," he finally says. "I don't really need this semester." It's the longest speech he gives all week. Dana knows she should try to help him, talk to him, but she's too withdrawn herself. He spends most of his time in his locked room, and only answers when she knocks half the time. They're no good for each other, she thinks, without Jack around.
They're forced back into the world by a knock on the door, on a day Dana has spent staring out the kitchen window and Tim has spent in his room with the door shut. Dana's still so muzzy-headed, so slow to react, and doesn't translate the sound into a need to get up until Tim's already been to the door and let them in. They sounds like kids, Tim's age, and Dana can't make out what he's saying to them. He sounds angry, by the tone. She gets up and goes to see.
There are two boys and a girl, and they look worried and unhappy. The taller boy has one hand on Tim's shoulder, and the girl is holding the other. The shorter boy is frowning, bouncing up and down in place a little. "We thought we should come see you," he says, sounding apologetic. "We're sorry we didn't sooner. But Cassie thought--"
"*I* didn't," the girl says. "Diana did. She said we should give you some time to yourself." She rolls her eyes at the thought.
"So did-- um. My aunt and uncle," the tall boy says. "But then we remembered what *happens* when you get too much time to yourself."
Dana coughs quietly, not wanting to interrupt, and all four of them jump, turning to face her like-- like they expect her to *attack,* or something. "Oh," Tim says. "Sorry. This is my stepmother, Dana. Dana, this is Cassie, and Conner, and Bart."
The boys mumble polite how-do-you-dos, but Cassie steps forward and says, gently, "Mrs. Drake. I just-- we're so sorry about what happened. I hope you're doing okay." Dana realizes that she's still wearing her bathrobe, and she hasn't washed her hair in-- well, a while. They must think she's completely fallen apart, Dana realizes, and realizes further that they're not wrong.
"Thank you, Cassie," she says, and for once fights the trembling in her voice. It comes through anyway, but it's a start. "We're holding up, I think." She thinks they're really not, and it looks like Cassie doesn't either.
It's at that point that Dana becomes aware of a faint beeping, the sound coming from the direction of Tim's open door. The tall boy-- Conner-- says "Tim, is that--"
"Yeah," Tim says. "This is-- not a good time. I should, I-- give me a minute." He disappears into his room, and the beeping stops. He returns carrying a backpack. "I have to go," he says. "Can you guys wait here? I won't be long, I don't think."
"Shouldn't we come with you?" Cassie asks. "I mean, if it's--"
"No. That isn't... a good idea. Not right now. Just-- stay with Dana, okay?"
Dana wants to protest-- she's the only adult here, after all, and shouldn't need looking after-- but these children seem more capable than she has felt in weeks, than she expects to feel ever again. They follow her back into the kitchen. "Would you like anything to eat?" she asks.
"Oh, I couldn't impose--" begins Cassie.
"I just ate a little while ago--" says Conner.
"I'm starving," says Bart, and the other two glare at him. "Well, I *am,*" he says. "*Sorry.*"
"It's all right," Dana says. "We have plenty of food." She goes to fix him up a plate, and doesn't miss the worried looks the three of them exchange when they see the fridge full of untouched food. Dana is suddenly rather relieved that she's done the dishes recently.
Once Bart is safely fed, Dana feels she ought to at least try to have a conversation. "So," she says. "How do you know Tim?"
In our next installment: Comfort food, the five stages, and girl talk. And the inevitable Tim angst.
