Fic: I Return But Leave Some Part Of Me, (2/3)
Fic: I Return, But Leave Some Part Of Me (2/3)
Author: LMX
Rating: R for language and adult themes
Summary: Eliot McDonald returns to Kentucky not as he left, and Willie Martin finds himself trying to pick up the pieces
Spoilers: The Wedding Job, The Two Horse Job
Precedes: Battle Fatigue
Crossover: Angel, but only *very* slight. You'll barely notice.
Verse: McDonald Family
AN: Still seeking a beta, for Leverage works in particular, but I guess also Angel works right this moment
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Part 1
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March 16th, conditions dry and windy (all flighty)
Risk Taker 2.32.20 (Roger)
Duke of York 3.30.02 (Luke - balking at first corner)
Duke of York 2.39.38 (Brian)
Fear of Loss 2.56.89 (Luke)
Walking Indecision 2.41.52 (Luke)
Days of our Own 2.35.10 (Brian)
Mind Bending Movement 2.29.49 (Roger)
Ricardo 3.20.93 (Roger)
Willie looked down the list of times and sent a quick prayer skyward that they never had a really windy race day. The morning running had been carnage, and even Brian - generally a calming influence on the most flighty thoroughbred - had barely been able to keep them to their racing line.
Perhaps they'd been able to sense the tension in him, too. Too much weighing on his head right now. Putting the ledger away, Willie make a quick check round to make sure everything was in place and was being taken care of and changed his yard boots for his nice shoes, grudgingly. He hated leaving the yard.
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Joe McDonald had felt like a stranger when he'd arrived in town fresh from Texas with his half a dozen kids, and without his beloved wife.
He'd kept everyone at a distance and he'd gotten his kids all caught up in that outsider feeling and so when he'd had his accident at work, taking a knock to the head so hard he would never be the same again, the kids hadn't known that any one of their neighbours would have helped out, they'd just struggled along, looking after him and each other without telling anyone what was going on.
It wasn't until Francie, the eldest, had gone screaming through the snow into their neighbour's house because their youngest was blue and not breathing and their phone-line had been disconnected through not paying, that people realised how bad things had gotten.
The two youngest McDonald girls died of pneumonia that winter, just babies the both of them, and their little brother had only pulled through by the skin of his teeth - three weeks in the hospital that their community raised every penny for, because there was no other way to apologise for the injustice done those kids.
Eventually they'd made the company pay out, some good-hearted local lawyer pushing the case all the way for them, pro bono, but by that point Francie had been married a handful of years and two of the three boys had joined the forces.
That money had come two lives too late, there was nothing they could do about that now. Only make sure that family and every other like them never had cause to feel so isolated again.
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"Hey Joe." Willie couldn't ever help but smile at the way Joe's face lit up as he answered the door. Willie'd missed seeing that same smile mirrored on Joe's son's faces. He knew he should come down here more often than he did. He knew the other man was lonely. Still, he wasn't bringing Eliot down here until he had a better idea how the both of them would react to each other.
He vividly remembered finding Eliot, just growing into his big attitude, bedding down his little brother in the hay barn, Lindsey full of cold and fever, always prone to it after that winter, bright eyes distant. Eliot had stood there, hands on his hips and his brother sniffling miserably into his sleeve behind him, told Willie that his Dad couldn't handle having them in the house sick, not after Ashley and Jamie, but he wouldn't notice if they were gone for a couple of days. So they were going to sleep in the hay barn until Lindsey was better, and if Willie had a problem with that well he'd surely punch him right out.
There wasn't any recognition in Joe's face today, but Willie hadn't really expected it. His smile was friendly anyway and he invited Willie in without answering his greeting.
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Joe had his place in front of the TV, and from the look of his house it wasn't a place he left often. Willie knew he had cleaners come in to make sure the house was kept up, and someone brought him dinner every night, but he hadn't really thought about what Joe did in between times. He'd thought about picking up a TV for Eliot, try and get him out of his head with something that couldn't judge him or be offended by his odd and angry outbursts. He'd never had need for one before, but with Eliot spending so much time in the house it might be good to have a distraction.
It couldn't be good for Joe, though, to just sit there like that, pickling his damaged brain with unintelligible junk all day long. Perhaps it was easier than trying to occupy himself other ways. He knew the neighbours had called the yard a couple of times because Joe had gone walking and not appeared for his evening meal. Joe had never got as far as the stables, though. Or at least never found his way there. The neighbours had gotten good at spotting him and gathering him up to bring him back home. In some ways it made Willie glad, that the community could look out for him now his kids were all gone out into the world. That they hadn't needed to lock him away or put him in a home somewhere.
"You heard from Ernie?" Joe asked innocently as they settled into their seats in front of the TV. Willie flinched a little, feeling like he should be more used to this. "He sent me a letter you know," Joe continued. "'Bout things where he is. Nasty sounding mess."
Joe said it with the same amount of conviction every time, and part of Willie wondered if he really did know this part and just didn't want to accept his eldest son's death.
"Ernie's gone, Joe," Willie said softly, looking about for some reminder to use. The doctor said he remembered things better if you linked what you were saying to objects, photos and the like. Willie had never been very good with this kind of thing. "You remember? Maisie over the road drove you down to the service. You've got his flag about somewhere."
"Oh." And, just like every other time they'd had this conversations, Joe looked completely devastated all over again.
"Joe, I want to talk to you about Eliot," Willie pushed forwards.
"Going travelling again?" Joe asked with a grin, Ernie forgotten just as suddenly as he'd been remembered. "He only ever goes to fight, you know. For those guys in suits who pay him."
Willie stared. He had no idea how Joe knew that Eliot had been leaving the country, let alone that he'd been fighting for some private profiteers before he'd joined the military.
"I don't know what we did that made him so angry," Joe added absently. "Always fightin'..."
"No..." Willie sighed. "Eliot was out there fighting, but not for anyone in suits. At least not... He was out there with the soldiers, remember? He followed Ernie out there."
"Shouldn't fight with soldiers. They're bigger, an'..." Joe frowned like he'd misplaced the word he wanted.
"No, Joe. It..." This really didn't matter at all, Willie reminded himself, when it came down to it. "Eliot's home right now. He's staying with me for a little while."
"We can't possibly repay you." Joe didn't look up, still caught up looking for the missing word, voice gone distant.
"He's going to work on the yard a while," Willie reassured him. "No payment necessary. He's feeling... pretty tired, after all that fighting. So he's gonna stay with me, catch up with some sleep. I'll get him to come down and see you soon as he's feeling better."
Joe looked at him sharply, "I had three daughters once," he said urgently. "Two of 'em got sick."
"Eliot's not sick, Joe." Willie swallowed hard, remembering the funeral and the two tiny caskets. "He's just tired, alright? I'll get him to come and see you, I promise."
"Their names were Ashley..." Joe looked near tears, and Willie knew he'd done right not bringing Eliot down here.
"And Jamie," Willie finished for him. "Yes, I know. And I'm sorry. Shit Joe, I'm so sorry. But Eliot's going to be fine. I'm gonna make sure of that." And God, he meant it. With every fibre of his body. "And Francie'll come down and visit soon. No doubt you won't have heard from Lindsey, but he'll be getting on fine too. Finishing off his studies this year. Getting himself into a good college."
Willie couldn't tell if Joe was even still listening, his attention back on the TV, grinning as the presenter showed him how to make apple pie. Willie was very quickly going off the idea of picking up a TV for Eliot.
There were friends looking out for young Lindsey - living as an emancipated minor in the city - and Francie had her husband to look out for her and their newborn over in San Deigo. That just left him to look out for Eliot now.
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March 17th, conditions dry
Risk Taker 2.19.59 (Roger)
Duke of York 2.32.06 (Roger)
Fear of Loss 2.52.34 (Luke)
Walking Indecision 2.28.54 (Roger)
Days of our Own 2.38.45 (Brian)
Mind Bending Movement 2.23.26 (Roger)
Ricardo 2.57.21 (Roger)
"Mr Martin?"
Willie looked up from the ledger as one of the junior hands, Sam if he remembered correctly, making pocket money while his Da trained him to be an engineer, peered into his office. "Yes?"
"I think you need to... I mean, could you..." the boy stammered to a stop and took a deep breath. "We need you in Duke's stable please?"
Willie tried not to roll his eyes as he pushed himself up from his desk. He cultivated an air of barely restrained anger around the younger ones, best to keep them in line. He'd had plenty of troubled young kids through the yard gone on to lead good lives, be good people, but his yard had horses on it worth his whole livelihood, he had to use a strong hand with them. Sometimes, on the meeker kids, it had the wrong result.
He followed Sam through the stable, throwing a careful gaze over everything, making sure there wasn't anything out of place. That Sam wasn't running let Willie know there wasn't anything life threatening going on, but he was curiously mum about what was going on.
When they got close enough to see over Duke's door, Willie could see for himself what was all the fuss was about.
"Alright, Sam. Thank you," Willie said quietly, catching the kid by the shoulder and pushing him back out onto the yard. "Go do your work, but make sure everyone knows to leave Duke until we have this cleared up."
"Yessir," Sam replied, scuttling towards the group of hands gathering in the stable doorway and scattering them with a muttered word.
"Eliot?" Willie asked gently, walking up to the stable door, wishing the kid hadn't chosen the most flighty horse in the place to cling to. The Duke of York wasn't looking too bothered about his new attachment, but he was eyeing Willie as if he was thinking about kicking up a fuss if he edged any closer. The door was half open, enough for the Duke to get out if he wanted, but he hadn't made a bid for freedom yet.
Eliot turned around, leaving an arm draped over the stallion, looking as casual as can be as he stroked lines down the Duke's shoulder.
"What happened to Mrs. Winters?" Willie asked, sidling a little closer.
"She fell asleep," Eliot answered finally. "I checked, just asleep," he enforced, voice shaking. That he had felt the need to check made Willie think he needed someone who wasn't going to fall asleep watching over Eliot from now on.
"That's good," Willie offered. "'S probably been a while since you last saw Duke here. He was new to the yard when you left."
"Whose is he?" Eliot asked, leaning back as if he was only just noticing the horse attached to his shoulder.
"He's one of Bure's," Willie answered, "Running fine too. Man's got a good eye for a horse."
"How's he ride?" Eliot asked.
"Well enough. Like a bronco in the gate, though." Willie stepped inside the stall and shut the door behind him, wary of an escape by a hundred thousand dollars worth of horse.
"You had Brian on him?" Eliot asked, stepping away like he was just now realising this was an odd situation.
"Yup." Willie smiled, taking hold of Eliot's shoulder and moving him towards the stable door. "Turns into a damn gymkhana pony, just like the others. I swear the boy ain't all human. If he weren't so tall he'd make a hell of a jockey. Dooie still won't take any other jock."
Eliot came to an abrupt stop, just outside the Duke's stall. Willie had time to close it and flick the kick-over shut before he said, "Willie, I don't remember getting here. Getting back."
Just to hear him say that made Willie grin. Now that they were out of danger, he could appreciate this for what it was. Eliot might still be in his fatigues, and getting ripe as all else, but he'd left the house under his own steam and he knew where he was. "'S alright son. They had you on some heavy duty shit fer travelling. 'S good ta see you doin' so much better, though. Maybe that pile of pills they got you on are doing what they should."
"You told my dad I'm here?" Eliot asked tentatively.
"I have." Willie nodded slowly. "He wasn't sure what to make of it, you comin' home early. Been times you ain't come home at all 'tween tours. I know he don't like knowing when people ain't well. I told him you were tired, sleepin' lots, y'know? 'S mostly true."
"Feel like I ain't slept in months." Eliot ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at the feel of it. "Or washed," he added with a wry smile.
"I don't think those sleepin' pills do ya any good. Sometimes better ta let yer head work through the things it needs to, and let ya get a bit of real rest in the mean time." Willie looked Eliot over carefully. "I got ya a session with a doctor tomorrow morning, after morning feed," he offered tentatively, not sure of his reception. He knew how he'd feel if someone went and made that kind of appointment for him. "Psychological type - head shrink, y'know? Give ya a chance to talk to someone 'bout what went on out there."
Eliot's gaze slid to the ground, his shoulders stiffening up. "I..." he started, but trailed off.
Willie waited, but he didn't get any more than that. "Come on," Willie said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you inside. Duke needs ta work."
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Mrs Winters was stood outside the door when the two of them ambled over, wringing her hands unhappily.
"Are you two alright?" she called as soon as they were in earshot. "I just..."
"No need to worry," Willie called back, lowering his voice as soon as they were close enough to talk normally. "We're just gonna get set for tomorrow. Did you want dinner?"
"Willie Martin, I know your culinary skills far too well," she chuckled, smoothing over that edge of tension in her voice as she checked them both over carefully. "I taught you most of them, all the good its done you. You boys do what you need to do and I'll find you something to eat. That alright with you?"
"You don't need to..." Willie started to object.
"No complainin', now," Mrs Winters chastised. "You get what needs doin' done, I'll call you down when it's ready."
Feeling like an obedient child again, Willie nodded and thanked her and hustled Eliot into the house ahead of him like a fellow conspirator. Leaving him in Aimee's room, his expression gone all blank and empty again, Willie ducked into his own room to pull out a set of clean clothes. Whatever objections Eliot might have, he wasn't sitting down at the dinner table with Mrs Winters in God-knows how old clothes.
Eliot had his boots off when Willie came back in, staring at the two lined up compulsively neat beside his socked feet. The glimmer of pride that might have been on his face when he looked up disappeared at the sight of the clothes in Willie's hands.
"Don't get to objecting with me now, boy. You're gonna be clean at my table if we got guests. You broke through somethin' today, keep it together."
"I just don't..." Eliot started, eyes gone wide and panicked.
"You're gonna take these clothes, get yourself clean an' showered." Willie pitched his voice low, like with the horses when they got flighty. A good strong voice could bring the tension right down. He wondered vaguely whether he was always gonna look at issues now like problem horses. It'd been too long since he last had to deal with anything that wasn't a thoroughbred or a jock. "You'll feel better for it, once you got it done."
Eliot didn't calm down much, but made shuffling movements towards the bathroom, taking the clothes Willie handed him and nigh on hyperventilating as he made it across the hall into the white-tiled room. Willie wasn't sure what was going to happen next. He wasn't overly at ease with the idea of stripping the kid down and pushing him into the shower himself, he was feeling strange enough even being in the bathroom with the kid, keeping near the door so as to block his exit. He'd never had to help Aimee with any of this kind of stuff. His wife had always taken care of it, and after she'd died Aimee had been old enough to take care of herself - or at least she'd claimed to be.
Willie made himself step up and take the pile of clothes off Eliot, putting them to one side carefully and then eyeing his uniform next. Eliot was shaking now, on top of his breathing racing away from him, but he didn't make a move when Willie ducked around him to get the shower to temperature. It didn't take more than a moment to get it right, and Eliot wasn't in any better a state once it was done.
Willie stood in the middle, between Eliot and the shower, and debated what to do next. In the end he headed out the door and closed it behind him, leaving Eliot to it. He'd planned to go straight downstairs and help out Mrs. Winters with the dinner, but he hesitated on the other side of the closed door, listening to Eliot hyperventilate over the sound of the falling water. He relaxed as the sound of the water changed, only to flinch moments later as there was a solid thump and clatter. He wavered for a minute, not sure which way to go. If Eliot had managed to strip down then whatever demons he was fighting with probably wouldn't appreciate Willie charging in there, but a man could really hurt himself falling in the shower.
The shower sound changed again, definitely falling on something this time, and the vague splashes turned into something more purposeful. When the door opened a handful of minutes later, Willie had a struggle to pretend he hadn't been stood there listening in all that time.
Eliot didn't appear straight away, and Willie risked glancing in the door. The boy was stood staring into the mirror, wearing Willie's trousers but no shirt and showing off an impressive scattershot of little pink scars across his shoulders and back. His uniform, soaked through, was in a ball at the bottom of the bath.
"You didn't think to take off your camo first?" Willie asked, bemused.
Eliot startled a little, but then looked over his shoulder at the wet fatigues. "I couldn't... I thought I'd do that bit after, an' then..." Eliot wrinkled his nose. "Shit, I got everything wet."
"You did alright." Willie nodded. "Are ya clean?"
"I guess." Eliot shrugged, taking the shirt Willie shoved at him.
"Then stop prissin' and get downstairs," Willie said, hiding his smile.
"Yessir."
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Mrs Winters was setting the table when they came downstairs, and Willie moved to fix some drinks and Eliot took over laying out plates as if they'd planned it like that. It felt so strangely domestic to Willie that he could imagine Aimee coming out of the kitchen with Eliot's ring on her finger, chatting about the newest foal and how Mr. Bure had said she could name him, and she wanted to call him Days of Our Lives for that TV show, only he'd be made fun of at the track for being a teen dreamer.
Dooie was three years old this spring - (much too old to still need Brian coddling him, his mind needled) - and Aimee had been married to her husband for two years. One day soon he was expecting a call to tell him he was going to be a grandpa, and then he was going to have to make some decisions about being so far away from his family. Things would have been easier if the girl had just sat on her hands and waited, not been swept off her feet so easily. Willie would of liked to hand the stables on to someone who respected the horses and wanted to work with them. For them.
Eliot was stood behind a chair, rubbing at his forehead with the back of his thumb like he had a headache. Mrs Winters just laid the food out, ignoring him, and took her seat. Willie followed her lead and left him to it.
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March 18th, conditions dry and cool
Risk Taker 2.20.28 (Roger)
Duke of York 2.29.35 (Roger)
Fear of Loss 2.52.02 (Luke)
Walking Indecision 2.28.30 (Roger)
Days of our Own 3.00.25 (Roger)
Days of our Own 2.33.34 (Brian)
Mind Bending Movement 2.23.21 (Roger)
Ricardo 2.53.27 (Roger)
Willie didn't know what he'd been expecting from these sessions. Not miracles, certainly. He'd had physical therapy, after a young horse made it clear he wasn't ready for the lead rein and nearly ripped his arm off, and he knew the injury always felt worst straight after. He didn't know whether the same would be true for this kind of therapy. Probably not, different as it was.
The kid had been almost normal at dinner after he got over his little absence, hadn't woken him once in the night, and he'd been talking the whole drive into town, nothing specific, just on the horses on the yard and what had changed since he'd last worked in the stables himself. Willie was nervous about broaching the topic of what had happened out there to shake him so badly, figuring in the end that he'd leave it to the professionals, but it seemed like this thing might be easing up on him at last.
Willie'd decided that sitting around doing nothing for an hour was wasteful - he couldn't think of a time he'd been so still for so long a time since Aimee's wedding - and so he'd brought along his notes and the ledger to work through the next week's race plans. The others in the waiting room had glared at him at first, as he laid out maps to plan a route for the horsebox, but curiosity had won out and soon he was chatting along as he worked, answering questions and verbalising his thoughts on which horses he would race.
He was fairly confident in his line-up and was just discussing with the secretary the pros and cons of taking Dooie or Duke out in the still empty stall in the box, just to get them used to the bigger race-day crowds when Eliot started shouting. The four of them - two patients sat across from him in the waiting room - looked at the door and all of them jumped as moments later it burst open from the inside, Eliot stumbling out, wide-eyed and terrified.
The two waiting patients scattered, screaming and causing unnecessary fuss between the two of them, and a pair of sizeable security guards appeared out of no where, hands hovering over the tazers on their belts. Willie took a minute to wonder how badly this would go if Eliot tried to fight his way out of this, watching him fall into a fighting stance in the middle of the room. The shrink was peering out of his little room with an angry look on his face, like this was Eliot's fault.
"Calm down, son," Willie urged.
"Doctor Nichols?" One of the guards asked edgily.
"He's having a break with reality," the doctor explained. "Hold back unless he looks like he's going to hurt some.." He ducked back into his room with a squeak as Eliot swung around to face him, and Willie took the opportunity to take hold of the kid's arm and muscle him into a chair.
"Hold on, now," Willie soothed, forcing Eliot back down as he tried to surge back up.
"Get the fuck off me," Eliot growled back.
"Yeah, yeah. You're a big bad wolf." Willie rolled his eyes at the empty posturing. Eliot was shaking hard enough under his hands he was surprised the kid could muster any kind of fight. Willie glanced up at the two guards standing over him, feeling out of place. Eliot went limp in his grip, slumping in his chair. From the corner, the sound of one of the patients sobbing quietly to herself started up. "Guess we're done for today, huh..." Willie sat back down next to Eliot, ignoring everyone else as they gathered themselves and collecting the dislodged ledger from the floor and pushing the lose sheets back in where they belonged.
Eliot was lost in a point on the floor, tiny flinches and ticks adding to the fine tremble. Willie opened the ledger back up. They didn't have to leave just yet.
Planned Raceday Lineup for March 22nd
(see attached sheet for weather report, trailer route and kit list)
Risk Taker - 1
Mind Bending Movement - 2
Duke Of York - not to run
Groom - Oli
Jockey - Roger
Second hand - Sam
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There followed a four days of barely any sleep as Eliot started to come out of himself and see-sawed between meek and easy to handle but not really there to spark-angry and borderline aggressive. It took Willie three of those four days to realise that he wasn't keeping down any food, and then there were a raft more doctor's appointments as they juggled with his medications.
Race day came and went, and Willie had never been so distracted from the race itself. He'd been reluctant to leave Eliot alone with Mrs. Winters with his mood so changeable, and part of him was expecting a call to bring him home early.
Between all the worrying and the race adrenaline, he was exhausted when he finally got home with the horses unpacked and everything stored away ready for the next race day. Mrs. Winters had just patted him on the shoulder and ushered him towards his bed.
It was early the next morning, after morning turn out but before they'd finished laying out feed, when the phone call came, dragging Willie into his office.
"Hello sir." It's a young lad's voice on the other end, over-respectful and a little hesitant. Reminds him of Sam, more than a little. "I'm trying to reach McDonald. Eliot McDonald."
"I know him," he answered carefully. "Why?"
"He was in my unit, sir. They transferred him out of the hospital without telling us, while we were out on mission. It was... We had a funeral today, sir. We finally managed to get someone to tell us how to reach you."
All the effort Willie's put in to not imagining what might have happened out there was unravelling. "Well, he's here," he answered, thinking on the stilted conversation they'd had that morning before Eliot had started throwing up his breakfast. "And he's alright. Doin' better in fact. Got damn near a full conversation outta him this morning."
There was a rough chuckle on the other end of the line, murmured voices in the background. "Sir, you have no idea, that's so good to hear."
"What's your name, son? I can try and get him on the phone for ya if ya like? He's had a pretty bad day of it so far, not sure as he'd have much ta say."
"My name's Bradley, sir. Art Bradley," the kid replied, tone turning reluctant as he added, "I'd like to tell him about Spencer's service, if you think that's alright. I don't know if he'll... He wasn't with it when we last talked."
Willie thought carefully on that one. As reluctant as he was to trigger another event like the one they'd had at the shrink's office, this seemed important, and who knows when they might get this kid on the phone again. If this could be some kind of resolution for Eliot...
"I'll get him for you," Willie said tiredly. "He might not be much for talking today, but you can be sure he'll be listening, alright? You tell him what you need to tell him. It'll take me a little while to get him back here, can you give me a number, son?"
"Our location's still classified, sir," Art replied apologetically. "Can I call you back? Just let me know when."
Willie was reluctant to hang up long enough to go and get Eliot, feeling like the connection to those boys so very far away was just as tentative as his connection with Eliot these days. He sat close and watched very carefully as Eliot had a near entirely one-sided phone call with Art, but didn't try and listen in. He watched Eliot close his eyes against the images Willie could nearly see flickering behind closed lids, and watched him twitch and flinch against the memories, but he didn't let go of the phone pressed to his ear.
There was a flicker of a smile there for just a moment as he hung up the phone when he was done and then Eliot pressed both hands to his face, covering his eyes but not managing to conceal his shaking shoulders or sobbing breath. Willie left him to it and headed back out onto the yard.
Author: LMX
Rating: R for language and adult themes
Summary: Eliot McDonald returns to Kentucky not as he left, and Willie Martin finds himself trying to pick up the pieces
Spoilers: The Wedding Job, The Two Horse Job
Precedes: Battle Fatigue
Crossover: Angel, but only *very* slight. You'll barely notice.
Verse: McDonald Family
AN: Still seeking a beta, for Leverage works in particular, but I guess also Angel works right this moment
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Part 1
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March 16th, conditions dry and windy (all flighty)
Risk Taker 2.32.20 (Roger)
Duke of York 3.30.02 (Luke - balking at first corner)
Duke of York 2.39.38 (Brian)
Fear of Loss 2.56.89 (Luke)
Walking Indecision 2.41.52 (Luke)
Days of our Own 2.35.10 (Brian)
Mind Bending Movement 2.29.49 (Roger)
Ricardo 3.20.93 (Roger)
Willie looked down the list of times and sent a quick prayer skyward that they never had a really windy race day. The morning running had been carnage, and even Brian - generally a calming influence on the most flighty thoroughbred - had barely been able to keep them to their racing line.
Perhaps they'd been able to sense the tension in him, too. Too much weighing on his head right now. Putting the ledger away, Willie make a quick check round to make sure everything was in place and was being taken care of and changed his yard boots for his nice shoes, grudgingly. He hated leaving the yard.
- 0 -
Joe McDonald had felt like a stranger when he'd arrived in town fresh from Texas with his half a dozen kids, and without his beloved wife.
He'd kept everyone at a distance and he'd gotten his kids all caught up in that outsider feeling and so when he'd had his accident at work, taking a knock to the head so hard he would never be the same again, the kids hadn't known that any one of their neighbours would have helped out, they'd just struggled along, looking after him and each other without telling anyone what was going on.
It wasn't until Francie, the eldest, had gone screaming through the snow into their neighbour's house because their youngest was blue and not breathing and their phone-line had been disconnected through not paying, that people realised how bad things had gotten.
The two youngest McDonald girls died of pneumonia that winter, just babies the both of them, and their little brother had only pulled through by the skin of his teeth - three weeks in the hospital that their community raised every penny for, because there was no other way to apologise for the injustice done those kids.
Eventually they'd made the company pay out, some good-hearted local lawyer pushing the case all the way for them, pro bono, but by that point Francie had been married a handful of years and two of the three boys had joined the forces.
That money had come two lives too late, there was nothing they could do about that now. Only make sure that family and every other like them never had cause to feel so isolated again.
- 0 -
"Hey Joe." Willie couldn't ever help but smile at the way Joe's face lit up as he answered the door. Willie'd missed seeing that same smile mirrored on Joe's son's faces. He knew he should come down here more often than he did. He knew the other man was lonely. Still, he wasn't bringing Eliot down here until he had a better idea how the both of them would react to each other.
He vividly remembered finding Eliot, just growing into his big attitude, bedding down his little brother in the hay barn, Lindsey full of cold and fever, always prone to it after that winter, bright eyes distant. Eliot had stood there, hands on his hips and his brother sniffling miserably into his sleeve behind him, told Willie that his Dad couldn't handle having them in the house sick, not after Ashley and Jamie, but he wouldn't notice if they were gone for a couple of days. So they were going to sleep in the hay barn until Lindsey was better, and if Willie had a problem with that well he'd surely punch him right out.
There wasn't any recognition in Joe's face today, but Willie hadn't really expected it. His smile was friendly anyway and he invited Willie in without answering his greeting.
- 0 -
Joe had his place in front of the TV, and from the look of his house it wasn't a place he left often. Willie knew he had cleaners come in to make sure the house was kept up, and someone brought him dinner every night, but he hadn't really thought about what Joe did in between times. He'd thought about picking up a TV for Eliot, try and get him out of his head with something that couldn't judge him or be offended by his odd and angry outbursts. He'd never had need for one before, but with Eliot spending so much time in the house it might be good to have a distraction.
It couldn't be good for Joe, though, to just sit there like that, pickling his damaged brain with unintelligible junk all day long. Perhaps it was easier than trying to occupy himself other ways. He knew the neighbours had called the yard a couple of times because Joe had gone walking and not appeared for his evening meal. Joe had never got as far as the stables, though. Or at least never found his way there. The neighbours had gotten good at spotting him and gathering him up to bring him back home. In some ways it made Willie glad, that the community could look out for him now his kids were all gone out into the world. That they hadn't needed to lock him away or put him in a home somewhere.
"You heard from Ernie?" Joe asked innocently as they settled into their seats in front of the TV. Willie flinched a little, feeling like he should be more used to this. "He sent me a letter you know," Joe continued. "'Bout things where he is. Nasty sounding mess."
Joe said it with the same amount of conviction every time, and part of Willie wondered if he really did know this part and just didn't want to accept his eldest son's death.
"Ernie's gone, Joe," Willie said softly, looking about for some reminder to use. The doctor said he remembered things better if you linked what you were saying to objects, photos and the like. Willie had never been very good with this kind of thing. "You remember? Maisie over the road drove you down to the service. You've got his flag about somewhere."
"Oh." And, just like every other time they'd had this conversations, Joe looked completely devastated all over again.
"Joe, I want to talk to you about Eliot," Willie pushed forwards.
"Going travelling again?" Joe asked with a grin, Ernie forgotten just as suddenly as he'd been remembered. "He only ever goes to fight, you know. For those guys in suits who pay him."
Willie stared. He had no idea how Joe knew that Eliot had been leaving the country, let alone that he'd been fighting for some private profiteers before he'd joined the military.
"I don't know what we did that made him so angry," Joe added absently. "Always fightin'..."
"No..." Willie sighed. "Eliot was out there fighting, but not for anyone in suits. At least not... He was out there with the soldiers, remember? He followed Ernie out there."
"Shouldn't fight with soldiers. They're bigger, an'..." Joe frowned like he'd misplaced the word he wanted.
"No, Joe. It..." This really didn't matter at all, Willie reminded himself, when it came down to it. "Eliot's home right now. He's staying with me for a little while."
"We can't possibly repay you." Joe didn't look up, still caught up looking for the missing word, voice gone distant.
"He's going to work on the yard a while," Willie reassured him. "No payment necessary. He's feeling... pretty tired, after all that fighting. So he's gonna stay with me, catch up with some sleep. I'll get him to come down and see you soon as he's feeling better."
Joe looked at him sharply, "I had three daughters once," he said urgently. "Two of 'em got sick."
"Eliot's not sick, Joe." Willie swallowed hard, remembering the funeral and the two tiny caskets. "He's just tired, alright? I'll get him to come and see you, I promise."
"Their names were Ashley..." Joe looked near tears, and Willie knew he'd done right not bringing Eliot down here.
"And Jamie," Willie finished for him. "Yes, I know. And I'm sorry. Shit Joe, I'm so sorry. But Eliot's going to be fine. I'm gonna make sure of that." And God, he meant it. With every fibre of his body. "And Francie'll come down and visit soon. No doubt you won't have heard from Lindsey, but he'll be getting on fine too. Finishing off his studies this year. Getting himself into a good college."
Willie couldn't tell if Joe was even still listening, his attention back on the TV, grinning as the presenter showed him how to make apple pie. Willie was very quickly going off the idea of picking up a TV for Eliot.
There were friends looking out for young Lindsey - living as an emancipated minor in the city - and Francie had her husband to look out for her and their newborn over in San Deigo. That just left him to look out for Eliot now.
- 0 -
March 17th, conditions dry
Risk Taker 2.19.59 (Roger)
Duke of York 2.32.06 (Roger)
Fear of Loss 2.52.34 (Luke)
Walking Indecision 2.28.54 (Roger)
Days of our Own 2.38.45 (Brian)
Mind Bending Movement 2.23.26 (Roger)
Ricardo 2.57.21 (Roger)
"Mr Martin?"
Willie looked up from the ledger as one of the junior hands, Sam if he remembered correctly, making pocket money while his Da trained him to be an engineer, peered into his office. "Yes?"
"I think you need to... I mean, could you..." the boy stammered to a stop and took a deep breath. "We need you in Duke's stable please?"
Willie tried not to roll his eyes as he pushed himself up from his desk. He cultivated an air of barely restrained anger around the younger ones, best to keep them in line. He'd had plenty of troubled young kids through the yard gone on to lead good lives, be good people, but his yard had horses on it worth his whole livelihood, he had to use a strong hand with them. Sometimes, on the meeker kids, it had the wrong result.
He followed Sam through the stable, throwing a careful gaze over everything, making sure there wasn't anything out of place. That Sam wasn't running let Willie know there wasn't anything life threatening going on, but he was curiously mum about what was going on.
When they got close enough to see over Duke's door, Willie could see for himself what was all the fuss was about.
"Alright, Sam. Thank you," Willie said quietly, catching the kid by the shoulder and pushing him back out onto the yard. "Go do your work, but make sure everyone knows to leave Duke until we have this cleared up."
"Yessir," Sam replied, scuttling towards the group of hands gathering in the stable doorway and scattering them with a muttered word.
"Eliot?" Willie asked gently, walking up to the stable door, wishing the kid hadn't chosen the most flighty horse in the place to cling to. The Duke of York wasn't looking too bothered about his new attachment, but he was eyeing Willie as if he was thinking about kicking up a fuss if he edged any closer. The door was half open, enough for the Duke to get out if he wanted, but he hadn't made a bid for freedom yet.
Eliot turned around, leaving an arm draped over the stallion, looking as casual as can be as he stroked lines down the Duke's shoulder.
"What happened to Mrs. Winters?" Willie asked, sidling a little closer.
"She fell asleep," Eliot answered finally. "I checked, just asleep," he enforced, voice shaking. That he had felt the need to check made Willie think he needed someone who wasn't going to fall asleep watching over Eliot from now on.
"That's good," Willie offered. "'S probably been a while since you last saw Duke here. He was new to the yard when you left."
"Whose is he?" Eliot asked, leaning back as if he was only just noticing the horse attached to his shoulder.
"He's one of Bure's," Willie answered, "Running fine too. Man's got a good eye for a horse."
"How's he ride?" Eliot asked.
"Well enough. Like a bronco in the gate, though." Willie stepped inside the stall and shut the door behind him, wary of an escape by a hundred thousand dollars worth of horse.
"You had Brian on him?" Eliot asked, stepping away like he was just now realising this was an odd situation.
"Yup." Willie smiled, taking hold of Eliot's shoulder and moving him towards the stable door. "Turns into a damn gymkhana pony, just like the others. I swear the boy ain't all human. If he weren't so tall he'd make a hell of a jockey. Dooie still won't take any other jock."
Eliot came to an abrupt stop, just outside the Duke's stall. Willie had time to close it and flick the kick-over shut before he said, "Willie, I don't remember getting here. Getting back."
Just to hear him say that made Willie grin. Now that they were out of danger, he could appreciate this for what it was. Eliot might still be in his fatigues, and getting ripe as all else, but he'd left the house under his own steam and he knew where he was. "'S alright son. They had you on some heavy duty shit fer travelling. 'S good ta see you doin' so much better, though. Maybe that pile of pills they got you on are doing what they should."
"You told my dad I'm here?" Eliot asked tentatively.
"I have." Willie nodded slowly. "He wasn't sure what to make of it, you comin' home early. Been times you ain't come home at all 'tween tours. I know he don't like knowing when people ain't well. I told him you were tired, sleepin' lots, y'know? 'S mostly true."
"Feel like I ain't slept in months." Eliot ran a hand through his hair and grimaced at the feel of it. "Or washed," he added with a wry smile.
"I don't think those sleepin' pills do ya any good. Sometimes better ta let yer head work through the things it needs to, and let ya get a bit of real rest in the mean time." Willie looked Eliot over carefully. "I got ya a session with a doctor tomorrow morning, after morning feed," he offered tentatively, not sure of his reception. He knew how he'd feel if someone went and made that kind of appointment for him. "Psychological type - head shrink, y'know? Give ya a chance to talk to someone 'bout what went on out there."
Eliot's gaze slid to the ground, his shoulders stiffening up. "I..." he started, but trailed off.
Willie waited, but he didn't get any more than that. "Come on," Willie said, laying a hand on his shoulder. "Let's get you inside. Duke needs ta work."
- 0 -
Mrs Winters was stood outside the door when the two of them ambled over, wringing her hands unhappily.
"Are you two alright?" she called as soon as they were in earshot. "I just..."
"No need to worry," Willie called back, lowering his voice as soon as they were close enough to talk normally. "We're just gonna get set for tomorrow. Did you want dinner?"
"Willie Martin, I know your culinary skills far too well," she chuckled, smoothing over that edge of tension in her voice as she checked them both over carefully. "I taught you most of them, all the good its done you. You boys do what you need to do and I'll find you something to eat. That alright with you?"
"You don't need to..." Willie started to object.
"No complainin', now," Mrs Winters chastised. "You get what needs doin' done, I'll call you down when it's ready."
Feeling like an obedient child again, Willie nodded and thanked her and hustled Eliot into the house ahead of him like a fellow conspirator. Leaving him in Aimee's room, his expression gone all blank and empty again, Willie ducked into his own room to pull out a set of clean clothes. Whatever objections Eliot might have, he wasn't sitting down at the dinner table with Mrs Winters in God-knows how old clothes.
Eliot had his boots off when Willie came back in, staring at the two lined up compulsively neat beside his socked feet. The glimmer of pride that might have been on his face when he looked up disappeared at the sight of the clothes in Willie's hands.
"Don't get to objecting with me now, boy. You're gonna be clean at my table if we got guests. You broke through somethin' today, keep it together."
"I just don't..." Eliot started, eyes gone wide and panicked.
"You're gonna take these clothes, get yourself clean an' showered." Willie pitched his voice low, like with the horses when they got flighty. A good strong voice could bring the tension right down. He wondered vaguely whether he was always gonna look at issues now like problem horses. It'd been too long since he last had to deal with anything that wasn't a thoroughbred or a jock. "You'll feel better for it, once you got it done."
Eliot didn't calm down much, but made shuffling movements towards the bathroom, taking the clothes Willie handed him and nigh on hyperventilating as he made it across the hall into the white-tiled room. Willie wasn't sure what was going to happen next. He wasn't overly at ease with the idea of stripping the kid down and pushing him into the shower himself, he was feeling strange enough even being in the bathroom with the kid, keeping near the door so as to block his exit. He'd never had to help Aimee with any of this kind of stuff. His wife had always taken care of it, and after she'd died Aimee had been old enough to take care of herself - or at least she'd claimed to be.
Willie made himself step up and take the pile of clothes off Eliot, putting them to one side carefully and then eyeing his uniform next. Eliot was shaking now, on top of his breathing racing away from him, but he didn't make a move when Willie ducked around him to get the shower to temperature. It didn't take more than a moment to get it right, and Eliot wasn't in any better a state once it was done.
Willie stood in the middle, between Eliot and the shower, and debated what to do next. In the end he headed out the door and closed it behind him, leaving Eliot to it. He'd planned to go straight downstairs and help out Mrs. Winters with the dinner, but he hesitated on the other side of the closed door, listening to Eliot hyperventilate over the sound of the falling water. He relaxed as the sound of the water changed, only to flinch moments later as there was a solid thump and clatter. He wavered for a minute, not sure which way to go. If Eliot had managed to strip down then whatever demons he was fighting with probably wouldn't appreciate Willie charging in there, but a man could really hurt himself falling in the shower.
The shower sound changed again, definitely falling on something this time, and the vague splashes turned into something more purposeful. When the door opened a handful of minutes later, Willie had a struggle to pretend he hadn't been stood there listening in all that time.
Eliot didn't appear straight away, and Willie risked glancing in the door. The boy was stood staring into the mirror, wearing Willie's trousers but no shirt and showing off an impressive scattershot of little pink scars across his shoulders and back. His uniform, soaked through, was in a ball at the bottom of the bath.
"You didn't think to take off your camo first?" Willie asked, bemused.
Eliot startled a little, but then looked over his shoulder at the wet fatigues. "I couldn't... I thought I'd do that bit after, an' then..." Eliot wrinkled his nose. "Shit, I got everything wet."
"You did alright." Willie nodded. "Are ya clean?"
"I guess." Eliot shrugged, taking the shirt Willie shoved at him.
"Then stop prissin' and get downstairs," Willie said, hiding his smile.
"Yessir."
- 0 -
Mrs Winters was setting the table when they came downstairs, and Willie moved to fix some drinks and Eliot took over laying out plates as if they'd planned it like that. It felt so strangely domestic to Willie that he could imagine Aimee coming out of the kitchen with Eliot's ring on her finger, chatting about the newest foal and how Mr. Bure had said she could name him, and she wanted to call him Days of Our Lives for that TV show, only he'd be made fun of at the track for being a teen dreamer.
Dooie was three years old this spring - (much too old to still need Brian coddling him, his mind needled) - and Aimee had been married to her husband for two years. One day soon he was expecting a call to tell him he was going to be a grandpa, and then he was going to have to make some decisions about being so far away from his family. Things would have been easier if the girl had just sat on her hands and waited, not been swept off her feet so easily. Willie would of liked to hand the stables on to someone who respected the horses and wanted to work with them. For them.
Eliot was stood behind a chair, rubbing at his forehead with the back of his thumb like he had a headache. Mrs Winters just laid the food out, ignoring him, and took her seat. Willie followed her lead and left him to it.
- 0 -
March 18th, conditions dry and cool
Risk Taker 2.20.28 (Roger)
Duke of York 2.29.35 (Roger)
Fear of Loss 2.52.02 (Luke)
Walking Indecision 2.28.30 (Roger)
Days of our Own 3.00.25 (Roger)
Days of our Own 2.33.34 (Brian)
Mind Bending Movement 2.23.21 (Roger)
Ricardo 2.53.27 (Roger)
Willie didn't know what he'd been expecting from these sessions. Not miracles, certainly. He'd had physical therapy, after a young horse made it clear he wasn't ready for the lead rein and nearly ripped his arm off, and he knew the injury always felt worst straight after. He didn't know whether the same would be true for this kind of therapy. Probably not, different as it was.
The kid had been almost normal at dinner after he got over his little absence, hadn't woken him once in the night, and he'd been talking the whole drive into town, nothing specific, just on the horses on the yard and what had changed since he'd last worked in the stables himself. Willie was nervous about broaching the topic of what had happened out there to shake him so badly, figuring in the end that he'd leave it to the professionals, but it seemed like this thing might be easing up on him at last.
Willie'd decided that sitting around doing nothing for an hour was wasteful - he couldn't think of a time he'd been so still for so long a time since Aimee's wedding - and so he'd brought along his notes and the ledger to work through the next week's race plans. The others in the waiting room had glared at him at first, as he laid out maps to plan a route for the horsebox, but curiosity had won out and soon he was chatting along as he worked, answering questions and verbalising his thoughts on which horses he would race.
He was fairly confident in his line-up and was just discussing with the secretary the pros and cons of taking Dooie or Duke out in the still empty stall in the box, just to get them used to the bigger race-day crowds when Eliot started shouting. The four of them - two patients sat across from him in the waiting room - looked at the door and all of them jumped as moments later it burst open from the inside, Eliot stumbling out, wide-eyed and terrified.
The two waiting patients scattered, screaming and causing unnecessary fuss between the two of them, and a pair of sizeable security guards appeared out of no where, hands hovering over the tazers on their belts. Willie took a minute to wonder how badly this would go if Eliot tried to fight his way out of this, watching him fall into a fighting stance in the middle of the room. The shrink was peering out of his little room with an angry look on his face, like this was Eliot's fault.
"Calm down, son," Willie urged.
"Doctor Nichols?" One of the guards asked edgily.
"He's having a break with reality," the doctor explained. "Hold back unless he looks like he's going to hurt some.." He ducked back into his room with a squeak as Eliot swung around to face him, and Willie took the opportunity to take hold of the kid's arm and muscle him into a chair.
"Hold on, now," Willie soothed, forcing Eliot back down as he tried to surge back up.
"Get the fuck off me," Eliot growled back.
"Yeah, yeah. You're a big bad wolf." Willie rolled his eyes at the empty posturing. Eliot was shaking hard enough under his hands he was surprised the kid could muster any kind of fight. Willie glanced up at the two guards standing over him, feeling out of place. Eliot went limp in his grip, slumping in his chair. From the corner, the sound of one of the patients sobbing quietly to herself started up. "Guess we're done for today, huh..." Willie sat back down next to Eliot, ignoring everyone else as they gathered themselves and collecting the dislodged ledger from the floor and pushing the lose sheets back in where they belonged.
Eliot was lost in a point on the floor, tiny flinches and ticks adding to the fine tremble. Willie opened the ledger back up. They didn't have to leave just yet.
Planned Raceday Lineup for March 22nd
(see attached sheet for weather report, trailer route and kit list)
Risk Taker - 1
Mind Bending Movement - 2
Duke Of York - not to run
Groom - Oli
Jockey - Roger
Second hand - Sam
- 0 -
There followed a four days of barely any sleep as Eliot started to come out of himself and see-sawed between meek and easy to handle but not really there to spark-angry and borderline aggressive. It took Willie three of those four days to realise that he wasn't keeping down any food, and then there were a raft more doctor's appointments as they juggled with his medications.
Race day came and went, and Willie had never been so distracted from the race itself. He'd been reluctant to leave Eliot alone with Mrs. Winters with his mood so changeable, and part of him was expecting a call to bring him home early.
Between all the worrying and the race adrenaline, he was exhausted when he finally got home with the horses unpacked and everything stored away ready for the next race day. Mrs. Winters had just patted him on the shoulder and ushered him towards his bed.
It was early the next morning, after morning turn out but before they'd finished laying out feed, when the phone call came, dragging Willie into his office.
"Hello sir." It's a young lad's voice on the other end, over-respectful and a little hesitant. Reminds him of Sam, more than a little. "I'm trying to reach McDonald. Eliot McDonald."
"I know him," he answered carefully. "Why?"
"He was in my unit, sir. They transferred him out of the hospital without telling us, while we were out on mission. It was... We had a funeral today, sir. We finally managed to get someone to tell us how to reach you."
All the effort Willie's put in to not imagining what might have happened out there was unravelling. "Well, he's here," he answered, thinking on the stilted conversation they'd had that morning before Eliot had started throwing up his breakfast. "And he's alright. Doin' better in fact. Got damn near a full conversation outta him this morning."
There was a rough chuckle on the other end of the line, murmured voices in the background. "Sir, you have no idea, that's so good to hear."
"What's your name, son? I can try and get him on the phone for ya if ya like? He's had a pretty bad day of it so far, not sure as he'd have much ta say."
"My name's Bradley, sir. Art Bradley," the kid replied, tone turning reluctant as he added, "I'd like to tell him about Spencer's service, if you think that's alright. I don't know if he'll... He wasn't with it when we last talked."
Willie thought carefully on that one. As reluctant as he was to trigger another event like the one they'd had at the shrink's office, this seemed important, and who knows when they might get this kid on the phone again. If this could be some kind of resolution for Eliot...
"I'll get him for you," Willie said tiredly. "He might not be much for talking today, but you can be sure he'll be listening, alright? You tell him what you need to tell him. It'll take me a little while to get him back here, can you give me a number, son?"
"Our location's still classified, sir," Art replied apologetically. "Can I call you back? Just let me know when."
Willie was reluctant to hang up long enough to go and get Eliot, feeling like the connection to those boys so very far away was just as tentative as his connection with Eliot these days. He sat close and watched very carefully as Eliot had a near entirely one-sided phone call with Art, but didn't try and listen in. He watched Eliot close his eyes against the images Willie could nearly see flickering behind closed lids, and watched him twitch and flinch against the memories, but he didn't let go of the phone pressed to his ear.
There was a flicker of a smile there for just a moment as he hung up the phone when he was done and then Eliot pressed both hands to his face, covering his eyes but not managing to conceal his shaking shoulders or sobbing breath. Willie left him to it and headed back out onto the yard.