Rating: R

Summary: Milk and crackers redux.

Spoilers: Didn't put 'em here.
 

MICHAEL:

January 2, 2001

I wake up late-this seems to be a lifestyle these days. Dad's not bitching at me because he says if I'm not better by the time the semester starts, I can't go back until I am.

Fat fucking chance of that, Dad.

It's Kelly's first day at her new job. She says she'll come by later and tell me all about it.

I can't wait to see her.

I hope everything works out for her.

I don't smell any coffee-Dad must still be tired from the other night, or he stayed up real late, probably scoping out the newest downloads.

No problem. I can make coffee.

I need to expand my repertoire. (How many Casey words have I worked in this last week?)

I put on my new glasses-I'm amazed at how much better these work than my old ones. My scrip must have changed.

Still, I've decided, contact lenses are awesome. You get a world previously unknown. That would be the fabulous world of peripheral vision.

And Kelly likes them.

Guess Dad got REAL tired. He's asleep in the chair, fully dressed.

Okay, well, this means one thing and one thing only.

First shower is MINE!
 

God, it's nice to have tons of hot water.

And I notice most of the bruises on my face have gone down. There're a few yellow spots, but I look almost like a human again.

A geeky human, but a human.

I feel good enough to put on real clothes today. I love my sweats, but it feels good to actually GET DRESSED for a change. Levis feel sort of strange, but it's a good kind of strange.

Life is a good kind of strange right now.

She kissed me. This is strange, and it's good.

I'm still confused. But I'm happy.

Did I just say that?

God, I don't remember the last time I ever said that!

So it's like a major downer when I come out and find my dad back at the table, eating another bowl of milk and crackers. He's not looking too good.

Oh God, NOW what is it?

"Sit down," he says, not looking at me.

Oh fuck.

And the worst part is, I have NO idea what I did now. I mean, Kelly wasn't even here last night! We talked on the phone for a while, that was it!

"It's about Kelly." He takes another spoonful of milk and crackers.

Oh man, I am NOT in the mood for this!

"I think you covered that yesterday," I remind him.

He takes some coffee, and then another spoonful of milk and crackers.

"Kelly was here last night."

"WHAT?!"

"After you went to bed."

"So why the fuck didn't you wake me up? And I didn't know she was coming over! She didn't say anything!"

"I don't think it was a planned excursion."

"What're you talking about?"

"Kelly's been hurt."

"OH FUCK!" Where the hell is she? And what happened-

He pulls me back into my chair, gently, but it's definite, and now he looks at me.

And he's looking REAL upset.

"Kelly apparently had an altercation with her mother's friend after there was an argument between the friend and the mother."

"WHAT THE FUCK DID HE DO TO HER?" I suspect the neighbors can hear me, and I don't give a flying fuck.

"Michael...please. You need to stay calm. I'm serious."

"HOW BAD DID SHE GET HURT?"

"Michael. Get yourself a bowl of crackers and milk. Take a deep breath. And sit down."

I do NOT like the way this sounds.

I'm scared.

Not only do my dad's words scare me, but the tone does, too.

He sounds like he's damn near ready to cry.

Oh God, just tell me what happened to her!

"She showed up here a little past ten. You were sound asleep. And it was obvious she'd been clobbered pretty hard. I took her to the charity hospital, St. Theresa's, and then the news got worse."

"Oh shit..."

"Michael, this person-and I use that term loosely in this case, for lack of a better one-committed a sexual assault on Kelly."

I feel the breath being sucked right out of me.

I think I'm going to faint.

My dad stands up behind me and grabs my shoulders.

The whole room spins around me.

This can't be happening.

He's got to be lying.

No. He doesn't do that. Why would he, anyway?

Where is she right now? What's going on? I need to get to her. I need to...

Oh God, what am I supposed to do?

I can hear my dad's voice, very soft, it's like it's a million miles away though.

"...best thing you can do right now for her is stay calm. Going insane is not going to help her..."

He repeats this over and over, like a mantra. I never knew what a mantra was until this past semester.

I'm trying to breathe. This is worse than when I had pneumonia. It's as if my lungs are paralyzed.

I will make that bastard pay.

This becomes my mantra.

Kelly...oh my God. What is she going through right now?

What should I do?

"Where is she?" I can barely talk, much less catch my breath.

"She's at the Langlys'. I took her there last night. Allison and Miranda are with her."

"Dad, why didn't you get me up?" I can feel the tears edging into my eyes, and I'm trying to push them down.

Trying to hang on to the few shreds of control I have left, and they're pretty damn frayed.

"I gotta go," I jump up from the table, but he takes my arm again.

"Michael. I'd call first."

What's his problem? Doesn't she want to see me?

What's he not telling me?

Another spoonful of milk and crackers bites the dust for him.

"You don't know how she's feeling right now. Call her first. Call Allison and get the rundown from her, and take it from there."

"Dad...it's her first day at her new job!"

Dad looks up, and his expression is unreadable.

"I think she has other problems right now."

If I know Kelly, this is her biggest one right now. At least that's what she's thinking.
 

ALLY:

I called the lab today. I'm not going in. I had no sleep, Dana is on maternity leave, and I don't feel as if I should leave right now.

I went downstairs at 4:30, and the girls were still watching Movies Till Dawn, not speaking. Kelly switched from the cat to one of Miranda's thousands of teddy bears when the cat decided it needed more privacy. I don't know what time they went to sleep, but I'm not going to disturb them.

Langly still doesn't know what went on. He overslept this morning-probably because I wasn't in the room to prod his cute ass out of bed-and raced out of the house without even a blow-dry, and I figured it was probably not the
moment to spring it on him. He asked me what was wrong, I said I wasn't feeling all that great-which was the truth-and kissed me rapidly, grabbed a commuter mug of coffee, and went screeching through the doorway.

Definitely not the moment to have a serious discussion about a criminal act against a friend of the family. Somehow, when the person you need to talk with's primary concern is getting a parking space, the discussion just isn't going to work.

So I'm surprised when I come out of the shower to find Kelly in the kitchen, pouring herself some coffee. She's also been in the shower, which explains why there was no damn water pressure.

She looks like hell.

I'm not going to prod her to talk. She already had to give her statement to the police last night, and I think that's as much as she could stand at the time. I just tell her if she wants to discuss anything, I'm available. Not that I'm much of a counselor, mind you. But I will listen to anybody's rant.

"Actually, there's something you could do for me," she says, and her voice is still muffled, but stronger than last night.

"Sure. What is it?"

"Today's my first day working for Dr. Shalad. I don't have any of my clothes with me, and I was wondering if I could borrow something-I promise I'll wash it and I won't ruin it-"

She's serious. She's going to work.

I'm not sure this is such a wonderful idea. She still appears to be in shock.

"Do you think that's such a great idea right now, Kelly?"

The blue eyes flash defiantly. "It's my first day. I HAVE to be there."

"Don't you think your new boss would understand-"

"No. I'm starting today. I said I'd start today. And I'm fine. I know I don't look too good, but I'm fine. And I'm going to work."

On the other hand, being able to push her back up against something may be helpful. Sitting around and brooding over the event may not be the best thing for her right now.

Either that, or this is her way of not dealing with it.

"Kelly, are you planning to press charges against this man?"

"Oh, I'm pressing charges, all right. They took my statement last night. Only don't call him a man, because he's NOT!"

This girl's hostility quotient in the best of times runs well over average. Today, it's up in the red zone.

Maybe this is good. I don't know. Sometimes anger can be a powerful energizer.

Other times, it can eat you alive.

I'm not sure what's going to work for this girl right now.

"I need to call Michael," she says softly. "May I use the phone?"

"Sure. What are you going to tell him?"

"I'll tell him I got beaten up. I don't want him to know about the - the-" she can't say it.

"Don't you think you should tell him?"

This really ignites her. "What? And have him think I'm damaged goods or something? That I'm some kind of slut?"

"Michael wouldn't think that." Say what you will about Michael's peculiarities, and he's got a lot of them, but they wouldn't extend to this. Of that I'm certain. "Besides, Kelly, Frohike knows. And I'm positive he shared this information with his son. Or will shortly."

This breaks her. She's at the table, and I can see the tears starting to form, and she buries her face in her arms, her body shaking in a series of long, silent sobs. I place my hand on her shoulder, but it doesn't seem to calm her.

I need some help here.

I dial the number to Chez Frohike.
 

I get Michael on the first ring-I suspect he was planning to call over here, and as soon as I come on, he starts demanding to know how Kelly is, is she okay, can he talk to her.

"Whoa, slow down there, boy. She's here. Kelly?" I turn to her. "It's Michael." I hand her the cordless, and I hear her say hello to him in a very small voice. I can't make out the words, but I can hear Michael coming through in a distant fashion, and this makes her cry even more.

And she's talking about going to work this afternoon.

I leave the room. She doesn't need me involved in this conversation. But I stay within earshot.
 

I finally hear her calm down when Michael apparently agrees to bring her car to her so she can go to work. He seems to argue this plan with her a bit, but he's going with it, since she says she'll see him shortly.

She's calmer when she comes out. "Do you mind loaning me some clothes?"

I shake my head. "Not at all. But you might do better in Miranda's closet. Unless you want to look like an aging hippie." I actually think I see her smile. "And her stuff would fit you better."

"She's still asleep."

"Wake her up. Miranda likes nothing better than making people over."

And she's got plenty of material to work with this morning.
 
 

Miranda is normally not pleased to be aroused from the dead, particularly when she's on vacation, but seeing as it was after ten, and she had a customer to boot, she launched into her attack with gusto.

Miranda's at work with Kelly when Michael turns up at the back door and lets himself in.

Never seen that kid move so fast.

The look on his face is utterly frantic. He's holding her car keys and his eyes flash in panic.

I tell him to sit down and relax, Miranda's getting Kelly made over for work, drink some coffee. It's not going to help her that he's in such a state.

He seems to be gasping for air. I wonder if this kid had asthma when he was younger. This reminds me of Miranda's childhood asthma attacks.

"Michael, did you ever have asthma?"

He nods in the affirmative. "When I was little. Not in a long time."

He's had a relapse, I think.

I tell him to get some coffee in him-if nothing else, caffeine dilates the bronchial tubes. When Miranda was little and we'd be away from home, if she seemed to be on the verge of an attack, we'd go and have iced cappuccinos,
and it always helped. Sometimes I began to wonder if she'd have an attack just to get the iced cappuccino, but she assured me that it's not the sort of thing one does willingly.

Besides, she said, I'd let her have one anyway.

"I don't think I have to ask if your dad told you what happened," I tell him.

He nods. He's getting a little less breathless.

"Is she okay?" He whispers it almost.

"Miranda's getting her done up to go to work. And she seemed very strong about getting to her new job today. I suspect that's a good sign." At least I hope it is. "I'm concerned how her boss will react, particularly since she is working for a physician."

"Probably gonna freak."

"Maybe, maybe not. I have no idea what kind of personality this person possesses, so I don't know how he or she would react."

"She. She's my doctor's wife."

"Really. Bergman's wife is her boss. Small world."

"Yeah."

"Let me go and check on the process downstairs. I'll tell her you're here."
 

MICHAEL:

I'm scared to death.

What am I supposed to say to her?

What am I supposed to do?

I ask Ally, she's not sure.

Ally tells me I should take her to work, and then I should bring her back here. She can't go home.

No shit.

I hear someone coming out of the dungeon. I know about the dungeon. I lived down there with the two teenage girls from hell.

I shouldn't bitch about sharing a bathroom with Dad after that.

Kelly comes into the kitchen. She's got on a black skirt and a white T-shirt with long sleeves and black tights and black shoes. Looks awesome on her.

Then I see her face.

Oh my God. What did he do to her?

I mean, Miranda's good, but the fact is, she's got a huge cut on her lip, which is swelled up to about twice its normal size, and even with Miranda's makeup job, you can tell she got bruised real good.

I smile at her and say hi, like an idiot.

I have no idea what to do next. I just hold out my arms to her. I hope she'll let me hold her.

She tries to smile at me, but then she falls into my arms and she just starts sobbing. Long, hard, shaky sobs.

I put my arms around her and I just hold her.

I wish I had a clue here.

I'm going to kill him. Swear to God.

END OF PART 39