it don't beat the way it used to
It Don't Beat the Way it Used To
He falls asleep with her words on his lips. (A story in reverse. Let's start at the end.)
Harper's Island. Jimmy Mance/Abby Mills. Appearances from Shane, Nikki and the Sheriff.
1774, pg.
[Set before the series, when they find out Abby's coming back to the Island. Told in reverse, snapshots and flashbacks ahoy. All I can say - it made sense in my head. Title taken from Reason's Unknown by The Killers. Enjoy.]
X
“So, Henry Dunn’s getting married,” Nikki Bolton tells him one night as she pours him a scotch (neat). She raises her eyebrows quizzically, waiting for his reply.
“I heard,” he nods, taking a swig, “Maggie’s been running around telling anyone who will listen.”
“To Trish Wellington, who would have thought?” Nikki rolls her eyes.
“They did date since high school-”
“Summer love, Jimmy,” Nikki laughs, passing a waiting customer a beer, “girls like Trish Wellington do not marry guys like Henry Dunn.”
“You never liked Trish.”
“True,” Nikki shrugs, refilling his glass, “but to be fair, those rich Summer girls never liked us anyway.”
“Yeah, she disliked you so much so she invited her to all her ‘yacht’ parties.”
“She invited Abby, because she was Henry’s best friend. Abby dragged me along.”
“Wow, must have been super hard on you,” Jimmy smirks.
“Hey, those ‘Summer girls’ ruined many a relationships - Angie Velare and Scott Rush, for instance.”
“That’s your argument, seriously?”
“Those girls came, seduced, and left a trail of broken hearts behind them. They would have gotten to you if you weren’t…never mind.” Nikki trails off.
“If I weren’t what?”
“If you weren’t so much in love with Abby,” she answers softly.
“That’s in the past.” Jimmy snaps, finishing his scotch.
“Word is she’s coming back,” Nikki calls as he heads towards the pool tables.
Jimmy shakes his head. He'll believe it when he sees it. (That he knows for sure.)
IX
He keeps everything she writes in a box under his bed. Well worn pages and print outs stare back at him as he falls asleep with her words on his lips.
(The scotch makes up for what the fading past cannot; his breath is ragged as he falls asleep.
He never envisioned any of this.)
VII
The island’s changed a lot since that day. Obvious changes at first, but as the years went by and Wakefield was mentioned less, they grew more subtle. People locked their doors and windows, waked in the woods less. Strangers were treated with suspicion and wariness.
Jimmy himself has changed. Not quite as cocksure, not quite as self-centred. He liked to think he’s grown. That he’s learnt things.
Such as, when you’re not dating his daughter, Sheriff Charlie Mills is a pretty decent guy.
(Facts aside, he’s still a little surprised when he turns up at his place, one in the morning with a bottle of scotch.)
“It’s been six years.”
Jimmy nods, but says nothing. His true meaning is as clear as day and he feels for the man, he truly does.
(That’s not to say Jimmy doesn’t harbour any secret resentment. Memories of his teenage self standing on the docks, watching her boat leave as it drags his heart behind it. Heart break at seventeen is not something he would recommend. At all.)
“I send her cards, but…” the Sheriff trails off, eyes searching the room for something, anything, “does she, uh, do you…”
“No.” Jimmy cuts him off, “Not a word.”
Silence falls on the two men, each lost in their own thoughts. Jimmy thinks in ‘what ifs’ and hindsight is his enemy when the world is silent and his mind won’t stop ticking.
He takes a sip and welcomes the comfort the burning brings.
VII
Jimmy’s angry. Got a chip on his shoulder that he can’t shake; a sense of being wronged that he can’t seem to control. Bar fights become common place; the police station holding cell becomes all too familiar.
(He blames her. Because once the sadness and hurt had faded away, all he was left with was anger. And he has no idea how to deal with that.)
“You gotta get over her man,” Shane argues, “Chick isn’t worth it.”
Jimmy wants payback. He wants to hurt her as much as she hurt him.
(A broken heart for a broken heart. Jimmy wants revenge.)
VI
Some days, when he’s out hunting with Shane, he’ll walk past that tree that Wakefield strung up those bodies.
Jimmy wants to scream. Wants to borrow his old man’s chainsaw and cut it down himself. Wants to bring the man back to life just to kill him again. Make him feel real pain.
(Jimmy wants a lot of things. Top of his list? Abby. He’s used to wanting things he’ll never have, but it doesn’t make the harsh reality any less painful.)
Shane placates him with a pat on the shoulder and a silent nod.
(The woods are too dark, the trees too close together, too tall. Too many places for one to hide. Jimmy starts to feel a bit claustrophobic and years for the openness of the sea.)
“Let’s go,” he mutters, grasping his gun a little tighter. There’s a hidden evil that lingers in the woods of Harper’s Island.
(There’s a bit of evil everywhere.)
V
A dozen half-written letters lie crumpled on the floor. He’s never been eloquent, Jimmy, couldn’t write ‘fancy’, but always knew the right thing to say.
(His mother called him ‘charming’. His father a ‘smart mouth’. For what it’s worth - for the record, not much - he agreed with them both.)
He’s trying to forget her, he really is. He’s got a job on docks, hangs out with his buddies in his free time and, for the most part, he’s content.
(She’s inescapable. Books she left at his place, CDs, a sweater - all reminders of what could have been. Months later and her picture still sits on his dresser and her friend Nikki talks to him with sad, knowing eyes.)
It’s stupid. He doesn’t even know where she lives anyway.
(He burns the letters. This thing? It works both ways.
It was her move from the start.)
IV
“You’re so drunk,” he laughs as she twirls, giggling. She throws her arms around his neck.
“I’m so not.”
“You so are,” he mocks, kissing her nose. She laughs again, spinning away from him, dancing to her own private song.
“I guess I am,” she pouts now, “but why aren’t you?”
“Well, for starters, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have,” Jimmy chuckles, grabbing her hand and pulling her to his side, “and secondly, those were some pretty lethal concoctions that Trish and Nikki were giving you all night.”
Approaching her house, Abby’s face screws up in concentration.
“My dad’s truck is gone.”
“No doubt out there looking for me.”
“Aw, and what could he want with my big, bad, boyfriend?” Abby giggles, gripping his arm.
“Again baby, you’re drunk,” he whispers, leading her to kitchen door. “Home sweet home.”
“Will you help me up?” she asks coyly, “I’m not particularly stealthy right now. I don’t want to wake my Mom.”
“Always the good girl,” Jimmy teases, taking the key from her grasp, “let’s sneak you in here.”
(For the record, it’s a miracle Sarah didn’t wake up. Several bangs and giggles later, he softly shuts her bedroom door behind him. She sits awkwardly on the edge of her bed, smiling up at him shyly.)
“Hi.”
“Hey,” he grins back, flicking his hair out of his eyes. He sits down next to her and she leans in close -
(She kisses him with drunken urgency, hands and limbs everywhere as her mattress groans beneath them. He snakes his hands up her sweater and her hands fist in his hair, pulling him closer. They break apart briefly - he spots the soccer ball in the corner, a picture of her parents on her bedside table, the flowers on her bedspread. This isn’t right.)
“ - Abby…”
“What?” she whispers breathlessly.
“We can’t do this here.”
She jolts upright, eyes wide.
“You - you don’t want to?”
“God, that’s not it, Abby,” he lets out a ragged sigh, “you have no idea how much I…'do'. But not here, Abs, not when your Dad could come home at any moment. And shoot me.”
She giggles, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
“You better go then. No use me having a dead boyfriend, is it?”
“Not at all,” he grins, already halfway out the window, “sweet dreams, Abby.”
(At his house the Sheriff is waiting for him. An hour in jail and Abby doesn’t speak to her father for a week. Arm around the Sheriff’s only daughter, fire in her father’s eyes; Jimmy’s smile is one of victory.)
III
“I’m sorry, son.”
Jimmy scowls in the dark, wishing the tears away. The Sheriff stands beside him as they watch the boat sail into the distance.
“No your not.”
In the dim light, he almost looks sympathetic. But beneath sad eyes Jimmy sees a father’s desperation; a husband’s pain and the younger man can’t help but look away.
(He just wanted to be there for her. Now he’s got nothing.
It’s a sad song, but he’s been playing it for years.
Enough is enough.)
II
“Hey,” he whispers from his desk, hair flopping over his eyes. The girl next to him glances at him quickly, her gaze returning to the teacher at the front of the room.
“Hi,” she mutters.
“Jimmy,” he leans over, twirling a pencil between his fingers, a broad grin on his face.
“I know who you are,” she whispers back, eyes towards the front, “we’ve had the same classes since first grade. You cheated off me last year in algebra.”
“Yeah, well…” he chuckles nervously, “sorry about that.”
She rolls her eyes.
“What do you want Jimmy?”
“Well, um, I have no idea what this book is talking about-the, um-”
“The Great Gatsby?”
“Yeah, that one,” he pushes his hair out of his eyes, grinning. She blushes and looks away.
“The summary is right there on the board.”
“Really? Is that what she was going on about?” he smirks, prompting her to roll her eyes.
“If you spent more time listening maybe you wouldn’t have to cheat off me,” she suggests.
“Then I wouldn’t get to talk to you, would I?”
“Ahem.”
The two teenagers glance to the front, meeting the angry gaze of their teacher.
“Jimmy Mance and Abby Mills - detention.”
Abby scowls, turning back to her notes and begins writing fiercely.
“So, this would be a bad time to ask you to the dance, wouldn’t it?”
She smiles a shy smile, a blush creeping up her cheeks. He leans back and takes it as a ‘yes’.
I
It’s the usual story:
Boy meets girl
Boy falls for girl.
Girl’s mother is brutally murdered by a deranged killer.
Girl is sent away, never to be heard from again.
Boy is left standing on the dock in the dead of night. Alone.
(Never said it was the happy version.)
Fin.
He falls asleep with her words on his lips. (A story in reverse. Let's start at the end.)
Harper's Island. Jimmy Mance/Abby Mills. Appearances from Shane, Nikki and the Sheriff.
1774, pg.
[Set before the series, when they find out Abby's coming back to the Island. Told in reverse, snapshots and flashbacks ahoy. All I can say - it made sense in my head. Title taken from Reason's Unknown by The Killers. Enjoy.]
X
“So, Henry Dunn’s getting married,” Nikki Bolton tells him one night as she pours him a scotch (neat). She raises her eyebrows quizzically, waiting for his reply.
“I heard,” he nods, taking a swig, “Maggie’s been running around telling anyone who will listen.”
“To Trish Wellington, who would have thought?” Nikki rolls her eyes.
“They did date since high school-”
“Summer love, Jimmy,” Nikki laughs, passing a waiting customer a beer, “girls like Trish Wellington do not marry guys like Henry Dunn.”
“You never liked Trish.”
“True,” Nikki shrugs, refilling his glass, “but to be fair, those rich Summer girls never liked us anyway.”
“Yeah, she disliked you so much so she invited her to all her ‘yacht’ parties.”
“She invited Abby, because she was Henry’s best friend. Abby dragged me along.”
“Wow, must have been super hard on you,” Jimmy smirks.
“Hey, those ‘Summer girls’ ruined many a relationships - Angie Velare and Scott Rush, for instance.”
“That’s your argument, seriously?”
“Those girls came, seduced, and left a trail of broken hearts behind them. They would have gotten to you if you weren’t…never mind.” Nikki trails off.
“If I weren’t what?”
“If you weren’t so much in love with Abby,” she answers softly.
“That’s in the past.” Jimmy snaps, finishing his scotch.
“Word is she’s coming back,” Nikki calls as he heads towards the pool tables.
Jimmy shakes his head. He'll believe it when he sees it. (That he knows for sure.)
IX
He keeps everything she writes in a box under his bed. Well worn pages and print outs stare back at him as he falls asleep with her words on his lips.
(The scotch makes up for what the fading past cannot; his breath is ragged as he falls asleep.
He never envisioned any of this.)
VII
The island’s changed a lot since that day. Obvious changes at first, but as the years went by and Wakefield was mentioned less, they grew more subtle. People locked their doors and windows, waked in the woods less. Strangers were treated with suspicion and wariness.
Jimmy himself has changed. Not quite as cocksure, not quite as self-centred. He liked to think he’s grown. That he’s learnt things.
Such as, when you’re not dating his daughter, Sheriff Charlie Mills is a pretty decent guy.
(Facts aside, he’s still a little surprised when he turns up at his place, one in the morning with a bottle of scotch.)
“It’s been six years.”
Jimmy nods, but says nothing. His true meaning is as clear as day and he feels for the man, he truly does.
(That’s not to say Jimmy doesn’t harbour any secret resentment. Memories of his teenage self standing on the docks, watching her boat leave as it drags his heart behind it. Heart break at seventeen is not something he would recommend. At all.)
“I send her cards, but…” the Sheriff trails off, eyes searching the room for something, anything, “does she, uh, do you…”
“No.” Jimmy cuts him off, “Not a word.”
Silence falls on the two men, each lost in their own thoughts. Jimmy thinks in ‘what ifs’ and hindsight is his enemy when the world is silent and his mind won’t stop ticking.
He takes a sip and welcomes the comfort the burning brings.
VII
Jimmy’s angry. Got a chip on his shoulder that he can’t shake; a sense of being wronged that he can’t seem to control. Bar fights become common place; the police station holding cell becomes all too familiar.
(He blames her. Because once the sadness and hurt had faded away, all he was left with was anger. And he has no idea how to deal with that.)
“You gotta get over her man,” Shane argues, “Chick isn’t worth it.”
Jimmy wants payback. He wants to hurt her as much as she hurt him.
(A broken heart for a broken heart. Jimmy wants revenge.)
VI
Some days, when he’s out hunting with Shane, he’ll walk past that tree that Wakefield strung up those bodies.
Jimmy wants to scream. Wants to borrow his old man’s chainsaw and cut it down himself. Wants to bring the man back to life just to kill him again. Make him feel real pain.
(Jimmy wants a lot of things. Top of his list? Abby. He’s used to wanting things he’ll never have, but it doesn’t make the harsh reality any less painful.)
Shane placates him with a pat on the shoulder and a silent nod.
(The woods are too dark, the trees too close together, too tall. Too many places for one to hide. Jimmy starts to feel a bit claustrophobic and years for the openness of the sea.)
“Let’s go,” he mutters, grasping his gun a little tighter. There’s a hidden evil that lingers in the woods of Harper’s Island.
(There’s a bit of evil everywhere.)
V
A dozen half-written letters lie crumpled on the floor. He’s never been eloquent, Jimmy, couldn’t write ‘fancy’, but always knew the right thing to say.
(His mother called him ‘charming’. His father a ‘smart mouth’. For what it’s worth - for the record, not much - he agreed with them both.)
He’s trying to forget her, he really is. He’s got a job on docks, hangs out with his buddies in his free time and, for the most part, he’s content.
(She’s inescapable. Books she left at his place, CDs, a sweater - all reminders of what could have been. Months later and her picture still sits on his dresser and her friend Nikki talks to him with sad, knowing eyes.)
It’s stupid. He doesn’t even know where she lives anyway.
(He burns the letters. This thing? It works both ways.
It was her move from the start.)
IV
“You’re so drunk,” he laughs as she twirls, giggling. She throws her arms around his neck.
“I’m so not.”
“You so are,” he mocks, kissing her nose. She laughs again, spinning away from him, dancing to her own private song.
“I guess I am,” she pouts now, “but why aren’t you?”
“Well, for starters, I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have,” Jimmy chuckles, grabbing her hand and pulling her to his side, “and secondly, those were some pretty lethal concoctions that Trish and Nikki were giving you all night.”
Approaching her house, Abby’s face screws up in concentration.
“My dad’s truck is gone.”
“No doubt out there looking for me.”
“Aw, and what could he want with my big, bad, boyfriend?” Abby giggles, gripping his arm.
“Again baby, you’re drunk,” he whispers, leading her to kitchen door. “Home sweet home.”
“Will you help me up?” she asks coyly, “I’m not particularly stealthy right now. I don’t want to wake my Mom.”
“Always the good girl,” Jimmy teases, taking the key from her grasp, “let’s sneak you in here.”
(For the record, it’s a miracle Sarah didn’t wake up. Several bangs and giggles later, he softly shuts her bedroom door behind him. She sits awkwardly on the edge of her bed, smiling up at him shyly.)
“Hi.”
“Hey,” he grins back, flicking his hair out of his eyes. He sits down next to her and she leans in close -
(She kisses him with drunken urgency, hands and limbs everywhere as her mattress groans beneath them. He snakes his hands up her sweater and her hands fist in his hair, pulling him closer. They break apart briefly - he spots the soccer ball in the corner, a picture of her parents on her bedside table, the flowers on her bedspread. This isn’t right.)
“ - Abby…”
“What?” she whispers breathlessly.
“We can’t do this here.”
She jolts upright, eyes wide.
“You - you don’t want to?”
“God, that’s not it, Abby,” he lets out a ragged sigh, “you have no idea how much I…'do'. But not here, Abs, not when your Dad could come home at any moment. And shoot me.”
She giggles, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.
“You better go then. No use me having a dead boyfriend, is it?”
“Not at all,” he grins, already halfway out the window, “sweet dreams, Abby.”
(At his house the Sheriff is waiting for him. An hour in jail and Abby doesn’t speak to her father for a week. Arm around the Sheriff’s only daughter, fire in her father’s eyes; Jimmy’s smile is one of victory.)
III
“I’m sorry, son.”
Jimmy scowls in the dark, wishing the tears away. The Sheriff stands beside him as they watch the boat sail into the distance.
“No your not.”
In the dim light, he almost looks sympathetic. But beneath sad eyes Jimmy sees a father’s desperation; a husband’s pain and the younger man can’t help but look away.
(He just wanted to be there for her. Now he’s got nothing.
It’s a sad song, but he’s been playing it for years.
Enough is enough.)
II
“Hey,” he whispers from his desk, hair flopping over his eyes. The girl next to him glances at him quickly, her gaze returning to the teacher at the front of the room.
“Hi,” she mutters.
“Jimmy,” he leans over, twirling a pencil between his fingers, a broad grin on his face.
“I know who you are,” she whispers back, eyes towards the front, “we’ve had the same classes since first grade. You cheated off me last year in algebra.”
“Yeah, well…” he chuckles nervously, “sorry about that.”
She rolls her eyes.
“What do you want Jimmy?”
“Well, um, I have no idea what this book is talking about-the, um-”
“The Great Gatsby?”
“Yeah, that one,” he pushes his hair out of his eyes, grinning. She blushes and looks away.
“The summary is right there on the board.”
“Really? Is that what she was going on about?” he smirks, prompting her to roll her eyes.
“If you spent more time listening maybe you wouldn’t have to cheat off me,” she suggests.
“Then I wouldn’t get to talk to you, would I?”
“Ahem.”
The two teenagers glance to the front, meeting the angry gaze of their teacher.
“Jimmy Mance and Abby Mills - detention.”
Abby scowls, turning back to her notes and begins writing fiercely.
“So, this would be a bad time to ask you to the dance, wouldn’t it?”
She smiles a shy smile, a blush creeping up her cheeks. He leans back and takes it as a ‘yes’.
I
It’s the usual story:
Boy meets girl
Boy falls for girl.
Girl’s mother is brutally murdered by a deranged killer.
Girl is sent away, never to be heard from again.
Boy is left standing on the dock in the dead of night. Alone.
(Never said it was the happy version.)
Fin.