Furies and spitfires.

I was sleeping and my head was lifted up, cradled in his hand as he leaned over me for a kiss. One small protest was made followed by surrender as I put my arms up around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him down with me and instead I rise up higher. I am the Fleaweight. He wraps his other arm around my waist and kisses me again. A long one. A Goodbye, I'm going kiss that is met by more protest. He can go later. He can not go at all.

A final kiss lands on my forehead and I am passed back into waiting arms. I have not opened my eyes but I feel the rough stubble of a familiar jaw and the loose curls against my ear. I say Ben's name and I hear him as he stops and asks me what I need. I ask him to stay. He crosses the room back to me, taking my face in his hands again as I am turned out for another kiss. I could kiss him all day. I may have before but he had other plans for right now so he turns me back to the warm waiting arms where I will stay until he comes back.

***

When I come outside I am met by Caleb, standing in the driveway beside a car I don't recognize. He is wearing all white and the trunk is open. I hear Sophie call out something about a few more minutes and he winces visibly. I frown. She is clearly putting up with me in a grand and desperate attempt to extract some of the riches from Caleb's wallet safe will heart.

I thought you said there wouldn't be a next time?

That holds. I slept on the couch again. But you don't play tennis, which I love, and she was in town and invited me so rather than wait around for you to roll out of bed or give me an answer to my proposal I'm going to keep living.

Should you be playing tennis? I mean, don't you need to take it easy?

No, I need to have fun. And I found a willing participant.

Then make her a proposal, why don't you?

No, Bridget.

Sophie comes out just then. Also dressed in white. So pulled together I unconsciously try and tuck my bangs (too long AGAIN) behind my ears and just fail and look pulled apart. Which is fitting, really, after two days in bed drinking gin and eating pizza for breakfast, lunch and dinner. I had a micro-vacation and it shows. I'm a mess. The house is a mess. God only knows what the other house looks like.

Bridget.

I smile. I don't even want to greet her. Also I have not brushed my teeth.

We ready? She flashes a different smile at Caleb and he gives her a withering glance. Yes, just a moment. I'll set the alarm.

She hurries off to the car and gets in the drivers seat (mystery solved) and turns her politeness into a scowl I see clearly despite the window tint. Caleb comes bounding down the steps and walks straight over to me, grabbing my elbows and landing a kiss on my temple, which is beginning to erode. My head is going to be lopsided soon unless they start trading off sides instead of always on the right. He ducks his face down against my ear and says It's a good thing I like tennis so much.

I whisper back that he can always go and pug for singles at the club and he laughs. You don't show up at a place like that without someone significant on your arm.

'Significant'?

Some faceless attractive lawyer from out of province.

The lipreader in the car takes note of this and blares the horn a couple of times, waking up my entire household.

She will have no fans left here now. My work is done. :)

A little bit little and covered with stars!

Now, see, I would post but Daniel and Schuy took the kids camping and so I am sort of drunk and in my underwear (Wonderwoman Underoos) watching the opening ceremonies and eating pizza! With Ben and Loch, neither of whom (which?) are drunk but both of which (whom?) are also in their underwear, except that Ben hardly ever wears underwear so he's just um..Ben.

Goodnight. Ha.

I love my room. Party all the time!

The lion's share (apologies to Mr. Baum).

(Sorry for this, but this isn't about what you like, okay?)

One of the things only those close to me know (and now everyone) is how much I despise The Wizard of Oz.

Not the book, the movie. I saw the movie when I was a child and it turned me off ever seeking out the book to see what I missed. It was that bad for me. I didn't like the characters, I didn't enjoy the story, I found it frightening and uncomfortable and weird. The design, the actors, the costumes, the sets, the dialogue, the whole picture just rubbed me wrong.

And it hit home, too. The Cowardly lion wished madly for courage, kind of like me.

I wish I had been braver. I think it's too late.

Northumberland burn.

Through every forest, above the trees
Within my stomach, scraped off my knees
I drink the honey inside your hive
You are the reason I stay alive

I am in my customary indoor thinking-place. It's four-ish in the morning or so, best time for conversation uninterrupted. Best time for truths otherwise obscured by manners and tact. I sit beside the bed on the floor, my head against the mattress, a goblet of red wine sipped so slowly I've been at it for an hour and the glass is still over-full.

He is flat on his back on his bed staring at the ceiling, an icepack wedged against his jaw from where one of those carnival rat punches hit home. He mostly doesn't care about it and was toughing it out when I noticed the swelling and the bruise coming out. He has meetings he can't go into looking like a fucking prizefighter and so I went and made a makeshift coldpack for him, wrapping it in a towel.

He held his arm out as if I would then cuddle with him, having let my guard down already in demonstrating tenderness. I sat on the floor instead and his arm dropped down to rest on my shoulder. I shrug it off and we wait in silence for common ground.

He speaks first, clearing his throat gently after an unsuccessful first try. We have grown so close that this is difficult and it shouldn't be. We owe each other nothing at the end of the day. He bought his proximity to me and I decide the rest.

I- I need a few days, Bridget. Then I'll share everything with you. I just want to unwind right now. No worries, doll. It isn't that bad.

Are you dying?

Most definitely not.

Then just tell me.

It will be shared in conjunction with some other business we need to discuss but I don't feel like talking business right now.

Do I need to do anything?

No. It's on auto-pilot (In-joke. The board runs everything.) You just need to be here.

I can't be 'here'.

I mean stick around.

Where else would I go?

Half the time I think Lochlan's going to smuggle you out in the middle of the night and I'll track you across the country and find you in a camper in Shediac and you'll be welded to something so you'd never have to leave.

He would totally do that. Heh.

And Ben would never know where to look.

But Ben is Now. Loch is Then.

What am I?

I don't know yet.

That makes me profoundly sad. You don't have a place for me. Or maybe it means I'm the Future.

You're not the Future.

You don't know that.

Hell, yes, I do. I gulp down the entire glass of red and brace for the instant headache. He rolls onto his side and frowns at me.

Now why did you do that?

To anesthetize because you cause me pain.

Pain I can also fix. Does this mean you're going to stay for a while?

No, I'm going home. You can call me when you want to talk about your test results.

Bridget, don't be nervous. I just want to have everything together to make the best use of your time.

That's the only thing I have now. Time. I just wait for things. Things happen. I wait for the fallout and then the resolution and then I wait some more. I wait to stop worrying. I wait to be happy. Time is definitely the enemy.

Then what am I? If I'm not past, present or future. What am I?

You? You're the devil. We established this in 1983, remember?

333 (Half evil).

Who claims that no man is an island
While I land up in jeopardy
More distant from you by degrees
I walk this shore in isolation
And at my feet eternity
Tries ever sweeter plans for me

PJ wound me into a tizzy by spending more than a little time trying to convince me to join the Witness Protection Program before Caleb's return. I adopted his low-grade panic until the dreaded message on my phone sent me scrambling downstairs and out the door.

Come

Dutifully I presented myself in the driveway to Caleb, who was standing beside his car, sleeves rolled up, hands in his pockets, suitjacket threaded through one arm, carry-on laptop bag at his feet. Mike was standing at ease beside him, hands behind his back, staring at the car. The look on his face was somewhere between disappointment and amusement.

Caleb looked at me and then abruptly (alarmingly even) dismissed Mike. We both watched silently as Mike got back into the Bentley and drove carefully in a loop before leaving the driveway, pausing at the top to wait for the gate. I stopped watching but Caleb continued until the gate slid closed behind the car.

Then he smiled tightly.

What have you done, doll?

My composure fought to stay above ground as I tried to speak clearly and failed. Nothing came out. I hid my face behind my hands. He walked over, dropping his jacket, tearing my hands away.

Why are you afraid!

I hear the Scottish click. Just once and we both turn and there is..well, there's everyone. All of them. On the porch and the steps except for Lochlan, standing three feet behind us, and Ben, three feet behind Loch.

Caleb turns back to me and repeats himself. Why are you afraid? Softened into a question now for the benefit of us all.

I ruined something you care about.

I can fix it, Bridget. Anything can be fixed.

The second click came out almost like clockwork and Caleb must have lost his mind because he charged Lochlan. Charged him. The nerve. He's yelling What the fuck is your problem and Lochlan's shouting outrage over things that simply can't be fixed and they're not talking about cars anymore. Ben pretends to be supremely interested in the direction of the wind when he sees that while Caleb is still much larger and a lot stronger than Loch, he still fights like a girl lawyer. Loch isn't at risk.

After a few moments of them trying to choke each other out we realize that we need to do..something so Ben reaches down and grabs Lochlan by the back of the neck and I surprisingly don't burst out laughing when he comes up still swinging. I would but none of this is funny.

Caleb straightens out his clothes. He is not hurt, don't worry, and he at least has the guts not to storm off.

The car. The fucking car can be fixed, you fucking hot-headed carnival rat.

It was just such a glorious euphemism though! Being able to fix something ruined that someone cares about! Lochlan spits out again, in case anyone needs clarification at this point. Ben still has him held because his arms are still moving, because he will take any excuse at this point and just fight to the death already but there's been too much of that already.

Besides, this is my fault.

I won't drive your car anymore. I'm sorry, Diabhal. I hold out the key and he takes it, keeping my hand in his. I see Lochlan's limbs flinch and twitch but Ben has him good. For as much as Lochlan can charm the universe by virtue of his passion, sometimes he just needs to know when to let things go.

You can drive the car, Babydoll. Just be careful.

I nod and he gives me my hand back. He walks over to Lochlan and strokes his face. Lochlan threatens to ruin him and Ben threatens to let Lochlan go if Caleb torments him. Where was this passion when she needed it, Loch? Caleb asks him and it's as if the wind has gone out of Lochlan's sails. Ben says Caleb's name again as a warning but Caleb regards him wearily.

I'm actually not up to any more arguments, if you don't mind. It's been a long few days and I just need some rest. Maybe later in the week. And he salutes Ben casually, then blows me a kiss and turns away, picking up his bag as he goes. Everyone watches him until he gets to the bottom of the steps and then I realize his medicals. I don't know what his results were and I take off running after him.

He turns and looks over my head, still keeping an eye on Lochlan. He never does look me in the eye. He just says Not now, Dollface and continues up the steps.

Whoops.

Caleb waited until he was away to send Daniel the same proposal concerning Daniel running the newest company he has acquired, the one he offered to Lochlan first. Apparently it's a small graphic design outfit with a stellar clientele and a fabulous reputation. Something solid and yet not overwhelming, because Caleb is very interested in making sure everyone is employed and busy and therefore less prone to get in trouble on such an...hourly basis.

Case in point, he has re-offered me the usual position of playing Pepper Potts to his Tony Stark. This will be the seventh time in fifteen years. Daniel thanked him profusely and turned Caleb down. He prefers to be a kept woman. Me too. I turned Caleb down and promptly found myself in trouble.

I wish I knew how he DOES this.

I..er...um..dented the Porsche.

And it couldn't be a bumper or anything, no, it had to be the passenger door. All along the bottom. I feel sick to my stomach. I'm scrambling to find a body shop that won't rip me off so I can get it fixed after finding out the hard way that none of the boys were willing to take on fixing anything involving German engineering only because it's too...expensive. Which argh.

Add it to the list of things I would change if I had some ten-second rewind chances.

(Jacob would be the first thing. I would have stopped him. I would have never let him go up there. I would have tried harder.)

Apparently now the only things left are to try harder at parallel parking next to tree stumps and learning to be gracious when offered things I actually have no good reason to turn down, because the devil works in mysterious ways, you know.

Three can keep a secret.

Thinking about our younger years
There was only you and me
We were young and wild and free
Now nothing can take you away from me
We've been down that road before
But that's over now
You keep me coming back for more

Baby you're all that I want
When you're lying here in my arms
I'm finding it hard to believe
We're in heaven
And love is all that I need
And I found it there in your heart
It isn't too hard to see
We're in heaven

His voice is low, his eyes veiled. He is vaguely angry at me. Angry at me for spending one entire night telling Caleb things no one else knows and angry at me for calling Batman and giving him false hope for the sake of seeing a movie. Even though Caleb deserved to know certain things first and Batman and I have always seen the Batman movies together by virtue of our own in-jokes. The pyromaniac took offense and he took possession. He leans right in against my ear and claims his time, asking if we can have a quiet weekend dreaming. I pull back and look into his eyes. Suddenly they aren't angry. Suddenly they are darkened pink and lavender skies, bright lights and excited screams, farmer auction callers and carny promises. Burnt popcorn and french fries. Cotton candy still stuck to my lips, my hair, his neck where I kissed the dirt and sweat he wears like a uniform after a full day on site.

Pop radio hits play on a speaker and I am still too small to ride most of the rides without him and so he takes too many breaks to take me on everything I want to experience, my staff bracelet almost falling off by the next morning, stuck to his chest as we sleep in the hundred degree heat of the camper with the smallest stuck-window you ever saw, my mood ring leaving a mark against his face where I held it all night to keep him so close we breathed through each other.

What kind of quiet-dreaming, Locket?

Sleeping in, eating pizza and lazing around on this chair together. He laughs quietly. Lochlan likes to sleep but he also works long hours. He's a huge, impossible study in contradictions, the strictest but most permissive guardian, the most affectionate, hottest, ice-cold lover, the most logical, irrational mind you will ever meet and a thoroughly practical, whimsical soul to back the whole thing up.

Right.

So from that you clearly will beget one fucked-up, completely uptight and proper, impulsive, lackadaisical princess who thrives on sugar, love and bright lights and still can't handle any sort of criticism whatsoever without copious amounts of tears, drama and ridiculousness. I am also supremely punctual and fully insured.

The plan was to never grow up, as long as we could help it. We're mired in the eighties forever, listening to Bryan Adams through a shitty sound system over the general boisterous noise of a hot summer night and a capacity crowd.

It's a deal. But only if we get a Hawaiian pizza too.

One pepperoni is enough, Bridget.

Can we have ice cream after?

Sure. Whatever you want. (see? SEE?)

You worry too much, Locket.

No such thing as too much, peanut. He gives my forehead another bruiser of a kiss and pulls himself out of my embrace to go and see about dinner. I pull the hoodie that he has left behind close around my shoulders. He turns back and smiles. Wish I had a picture.

So take one already.

***

I head inside to change. It's gotten cold out, and Lochlan is taking a while with the pizza. I change into jeans and a thin white lacy sweater with a dark blue cami underneath. I brush my hair, apply a little bit of lip gloss and slip into flat sandals. I frown and kick them off, trading them for my All-stars instead. They match the ones Loch wears almost daily, if he must wear shoes at all. I decide my outfit is complete and go bounding down the stairs, right into Ben's arms. He laughs and squeezes me.

Just the person I was looking for. God, you look so pretty. Let's go for dinner.

I don't blink. Loch's getting a pizza for a picnic on the patio.

Ah, okay.

So grab a hoodie and come out.

Naw, I won't be a third wheel tonight. His voice is light but his eyes are heavy.

Ben, please.

I'll catch you later. Going to go and get a little work done and I'll see you both later. Love you.

If there's a third wheel it isn't you-

Bridget, it's ok. No big deal. I can pull rank whenever I want anyway. I could tell you you can't go. I could tell him to take a break.

I know.

And I really want to do that right now but I won't.

He can handle it.

I wouldn't be able to.

You're not making sense.

Right so let's meet at eleven instead. Go have your picnic and watch the stars and then come down and get me, okay? Eleven. Does that work? He needs you, bee.

I need you though.

He smiles. You have me. At eleven. And he gives me a gentle shove past him to encourage me to go.

I hesitate again, two steps down from him, looking up. Ben acts annoyed, telling me not to be late and I nod and he turns and disappears into our room. The door closes behind him. I turn around to go back downstairs and run smack into Lochlan, who is looking for me. This is becoming a habit, since I can't hear them coming.

Ben won't come down and eat with us.

Ben is Ben. He'll just eat the bed if he gets hungry.

Would you come if he offered you the same thing?

That's exactly what I did, Bridget. I volunteered to be the third wheel he feels like right now because it was the difference between being able to see you in the way that I want to and never seeing you again.

I don't like theses moments where their plans overlap and feelings inevitably get hurt.

Ben is back at the top of the stairs. I wouldn't have kept her from you, Loch.

That's because you're a sick fuck, Benny.

Yeah well, beggars can't be choosers. Let's eat. Ben smiles slightly. He's such a pain.

You two make things very difficult for me. We're supposed to work together. I pout.

We work together just fine. You're the problem, princess. Ben laughs.

I'm going to go see what Andrew's doing for supper.

No, you're not. (This is Lochlan, ordering me around.)

I was kidding!

No, you weren't. (Ben says this, calling me on my bullshit.)

Can we eat now?

Good idea. (this, they say at the same time. They're fucking FREAKS, I tell you. Sharing one woman, and clearly one brain.)

Eleven didn't see any change in my guard. Eleven saw me being led back into the darkness trailing hand to hand to hand. Well-choreographed moonlight, or some semblance thereof.

Clarified (like butter).

In case it wasn't clear (is it ever?), no, Batman isn't going to come back to the fold. I'll take my New Year's Eve check-in calls and keep the emergency number and otherwise be smart enough not to bite off more than I can chew.

Who isn't guilty of doing that from time to time?

Things have also not changed with Caleb. He doesn't gain any ground in knowing the full spectrum of his brother's colors. He doesn't have the upper hand suddenly again, and no, he hasn't said much since our endless conversation. I think I've rattled him good and frankly it was very good for me to get some things out. Secrets are like splinters, they fester, working their way to the surface eventually anyway.

He's traveling to New England this weekend to one of his big spendy private clinics for his usual annual physical and check-up. I keep my fingers crossed and I don't miss him but I do worry. It's a strange feeling to wonder how he is and still attempt to keep him at a safe distance from my thoughts. I'm not sure I'll ever find a way that works that makes everyone happy, so I just work at making sure no one feels left out.

Forty days and forty nights.

I caved first.

Why?

The Dark Knight Rises. Penciled in on my boygenda, which is a small dayplanner on the kitchen counter where I keep track of plans with the boys and the boys' plans and their trips and tours and whatnot and there it was: July 20 TDKR/Batman (only it didn't say Batman, it said his actual given first name which is none of your business) and so I called his cloak and dagger number and I left a brief message asking him if our date was off and I should find a willing replacement to take me to the movies or if we were still on, to go as friends and nothing more?

I never received an answer, he just drove to the house to collect me in the Batmobile (Ha, kidding, he drove his car) and off we went to the theater. He bought me Skittles. We sat way down front and a few people gaped at him but otherwise we were mercifully left alone and I didn't know it was three hours long but gosh, am I ever glad I went because I loved everything except for one little part.

Bane's voice.

I couldn't make out what he said except when he shouted and even then it was a massive struggle so mumble-Bane was sort of ignored in favor of the...epicness of everything else.

I will definitely side with the Justice League because as fun as the Avengers are, Batman and Superman have a tendency to make me cry. I worry about them. I fear for them. They are vulnerable in a way that the slapstick-Ironman and Toonish-Thor are not. I like them more.

I won't give anything away, I will just tell you I cried three times, covered my eyes more than once, and was completely aghast twice at new developments. It was that good.

It was so good, I'd like to go see it again. Right away. As soon as I can. But not with Batman. He brought me back to the house and walked me up to the front door where I automatically invited him to come in for some tea. He refused, standing with his hands in his pockets watching the fountain, shaking his head.

Bridget, if I hadn't pushed-

But you have and you will. And I need to just minimize all of the pushing and shoving right now.

It would be better if I could remain a permanent part of your life.

Better for whom?

Everyone.

Why?

Because Caleb behaves when I'm around.

He's behaving right now.

Only because he's in the doghouse. I know what he did to you. They told me-

Who told you?

Your husband.

Which one?

He laughs out loud. Pyro. Pyro told me. He keeps me looped in.

Godfuckingdamnit. And since when do you call him that?

Stop swearing and be a lady, for chrissake.

Fuck you too. And fuck Lochlan for tattling-

He's smart not to trust Caleb. Caleb is..I don't even know what Caleb is. He's a small fish in a big pond. He is out of his league, and not objective enough to be rational when it comes to you.

And you are? You have it all figured out?

Hey, I didn't bother you. I was gone. I was living. I listened to you and I didn't contact you until you used the number to reach ME.

What have you been doing?

Working, Bridget. Thinking. Living. Reading. I won't perish from a denial of access, don't flatter yourself.

I wouldn't.

Sure you would. You like to know we're all miserable, dying on the inside from a lack of your attention.

Fine. Yes. I like to feel wanted.

You are.

By you?

No.

Liar.

Yes. And you can call me whatever you like, just don't call me Batman anymore.

Why?

There were those who could destroy him, so clearly the shoe no longer fits.

No one can destroy you? Wow. Maybe you are a superhero.

Yes, and you, Bridget, as it turns out, are my kryptonite.

Fine. You're now Superman. That's what I'm going to call you from now on. Congratulations.

By the way, Part II of the Watershed post is up. Right here, in chronological order, the day after Part I, if you are so inclined and not using a feed reader to read my journal.

I'm sorry it doesn't say what you think it might. Cole and Caleb's folks are still alive and savvy enough to visit the internet, I don't intend to make things any harder for them than I already do.