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Gradiva
Warnings:
Some chapters are heavy on smut, others are not. Overall, NC-17.
A fair amount of angst.
A little S&M, but nothing major at all.
Not beta-ed and written between midnight and 5 AM b/c of lack of sleep.
Random Meta:
lenajill
wanted Biblical references. Blame her.
I didn't put too many otherwise it would be a philosophy paper. If you really
want me to do that, I will, but not in a fic. I found my old notes on the Bible
and Nietzsche, so ... yeah, you REALLY don't want that.
viola69 and lenajill better be satisfied b/c I ain't rewriting this again. Also, they gave me the plot... or some of it. And pointed out stuff wrong with the original.
I didn't do the thing where Justin confronts Joanie, because:
(a) Justin is far too WASPY for a real smackdown with a woman, IMHO.
(b) Justin is fairly non-confrontational unlike, for instance, Craig.
(c) Randall and Cael are doing a fair amount of drama and smackdown, so not
going to steal their thunder.
I didn't want to RESOLVE the ending, so it's as Myrna would say "Hopeful,
if not happy."
References are from Nietzsche's "The wanderer and his shadow," "The Birth of Tragedy," and the "Antichrist." And of course, the Bible. And Ayn Rand's "The Fountainhead."
* * * * * * * * *
He got the call on his cell-phone, Claire asking him if he could pick up her
younger son from school. He was about to laugh at her audacity, but heard the
desperation in her voice and agreed.
"Don't take him home," she said, relieved. "Bring him straight to the hospital."
"The hospital?" he asked, a little weakly.
"Didn't you know? Mom's been in an accident. She actually went ahead and attempted
to drive while..."
"... she was drunk?" he finished for her, biting off the words angrily. "Where
were you? And why didn't you tell me before? How is she?"
"Like you care," she spat out. "I've been going crazy the last couple of days.
Luckily it was the weekend, but now the kids have school, and... she's not doing
well. She's coherent, but that's about it."
He left it at that, wandered aimlessly for a few hours, then went to pick up
the kid and go to the hospital. He reflected for a moment that Claire now had
a permanently shiny nose, sunken cheeks, and a well-cried look about the eyes.
"Where is she?"
"I don't think you should talk to her."
"I think that's between me and her."
"She's not strong enough to..." but he was already in the room. Joanie looked
small and battered and pitiable in the elevated bed, her wrist in a small cast-like
thing into which the IV dripped steadily.
"Mom." She stirred slightly, frowning in confusion.
"Mom, it's me. Wake up." His voice was pleading, gentle. She opened her eyes.
"What do you want?" she asked. Her voice carried that same twinge of hurt, the
same resignation of martyrdom.
"I came to see you. To see how you were doing."
"Now you know. Funny that it takes me being in a hospital for you to realize
you care about me." Tears filled her eyes and she looked up at the ceiling proudly.
He kept his silence. She turned to him suddenly, her eyes burning into his.
"I don't know... I tried so hard, but you seemed so determined to hate me. What
did I ever do to you?"
He didn't answer. The list wasn't that long, not as long as it was for Jack,
because he actually did things to warrant hatred. In Joanie's case, the
list was a different one. It was a list of expectations that were never met.
It was the things she should have done.
She continued, tears flowing down her high cheekbones and wetting the pillow,
"I was so confused. I loved you so much, I wanted you to be good, but you chose
this path... you were always such a difficult child."
"I didn't choose to be gay," he said, wondering if there was even a point
to this. She didn't say anything, just turned away and closed her eyes. "That's
it?" he asked, because it couldn't be. She couldn't be done with him.
She sniffled. "If thine eye offend thee, pluck it out."
"Mark, nine, forty-seven." His voice was calm. He got up to leave.
"It isn't too late for you... ask His forgiveness. If I know you have returned
to His fold, I'll die a happy woman."
He didn't answer; he ignored Claire's loud wailing as he left.