51: Goodbye to Paradise

Melissa was proud of herself. She’d managed to keep a straight face all the way home. It was dark when she entered her ramshackle apartment, silent but for the sound of her own soft breathing. She tried to keep the place in the best condition she could, but the apartment was old. The wooden floorboards creaked whenever she walked on them; the curtains were dark and stained with years of grime. Still, it was home.

It was a constant battle to keep the sadness at bay. Not that it mattered, anyway. It wasn’t as if anyone could see her. She was alone. She was always alone. But it was a matter of pride. She flicked on the lights and made her way into the run-down kitchen.

Just don’t think about, she told herself. Don’t think, and it’ll be okay. Don’t think, don’t think…

She repeated the mantra, doing everything she could to prevent her mind from replaying the events. Each time the thought formed, she snuffed it out, but it was growing stronger. The mind was a funny thing. No matter what you did, you couldn’t control it. Melissa rushed over to her cabinets, pulling out a tall, round glass. She needed some water. Some fresh water would help cleanse her mind.

Eventually, the thoughts broke through, and Melissa once again saw it in her mind. Juliette, furiously pulling in Jack’s face, the two gripping at each other in an intense, passionate kiss. What Jack didn’t know, what he didn’t see, was the corner of Juliette’s face. During the kiss she’d been staring directly at Melissa, a crooked smirk visible on the small portion of her face that wasn’t covered by Jack’s lips.

Melissa dropped the glass, barely hearing it shatter under her feet. Stop thinking! Stop thinking about it or you’ll …

It broke through. As the first sob escaped her, Melissa knew she wouldn’t be able to contain the second, though she fought it anyway. The second sob followed on the heels of the first, and within moments, Melissa was on her knees, cutting her skin on the sharp glass from the broken cup, sobbing into her hands.

“Stop crying,” she whimpered aloud. “You’re tough, you’re … you’re …”

She punched the floor, not caring when she ripped away a section of the old wooden boards. She hated that girl. She hated Juliette. Melissa wasn’t deaf, no, she had perfectly fine ears. She heard what the skank said about her. ‘I know her type, I hate girls like her.’ Melissa heard it all. Worse, she spoke it loudly enough that Melissa wondered if Juliette wanted her to overhear.

It was humiliating. Tears fell from her eyes. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t move. She leaned over and sobbed onto the floor. “Is it so wrong?” she said. “Is it so wrong to want feel like I’m worth it? Does that make me such a bad person?”

“No, it doesn’t,” answered a voice.

Melissa jumped to her feet. “Who’s there?”

Alana walked into the kitchen and eyed the place with a grimace. She tilted her head and looked at the dusty cabinets, the cracked windows, and the now broken floorboard. She shook her head at all of it.

“W-why are you here?”

Alana didn’t answer. Instead, she walked over to Melissa and pulled her into a hug. Melissa didn’t struggle—she didn’t have the willpower. She let herself go, and for the next ten minutes she cried into Alana’s chest. Over and over she asked why, and every time Alana would pat her shoulder and grip her tighter.

“I know it hurts,” she answered each time. “I know, I know.”

When Melissa’s tears ran dry and the last drop had been absorbed by Alana’s white general’s uniform, Melissa marveled at how much better she felt.

“It feels good to let it out, doesn’t it?” Alana asked.

Melissa nodded. “It really does.”

She was back on her feet in an instant, her reddened eyes the only sign she’d been bawling like a newborn. “How come you’re here?” she began, taking note of the uniform. “General Harris.”

Alana waved a hand at Melissa. “Ah, I forgot to take this off.” She pulled out a creaky plastic chair and hung the coat off the back of it. “The first responders told me there were only four people on the scene, and I put two and two together. Tell me about her. The girl, I mean.”

Sadness was replaced by bitterness as Melissa told Alana everything she’d seen. “I hate her,” Melissa growled. “I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! But at the same time, I feel like it’s my fault, because I made Jack chase after me. I just wanted to feel like I was worth it.”

“I admire you for that,” Alana said. “And listen to me, Melissa, listen to me well. There is nothing wrong with respecting yourself. There’s nothing wrong with not wanting to put yourself out there for the first guy that smiles at you. I’m disappointed in Jack, but I don’t think this is something I’ve got the right to punish him for. So, you overheard this Juliette say ‘she knows your type,’ huh? Well let me tell you something—I know her type as well. She’s going to break Jack’s heart into a million pieces, I’m sure of it. And I’m gonna let it happen, too. That’ll be punishment enough.”

Melissa was furious at Jack. She wanted to beat him to a pulp and scream at him, yet Alana’s words filled her with worry. “What do you mean?”

“I actually do know her type. She comes off sweet, if not a little possessive, and what you see on the outside isn’t always what lies within. That is, if she’s anything like her mother, Amanda.”

“You know them?”

Alana shook her head. “Not the daughter, just the mother, but that’s a different story for a different day. Melissa, why didn’t you tell me about your living situation? I’ve known since I became a General, and I’ve been waiting for you to confide in me, but you never did.”

Melissa stiffened, and against her own will she felt a small amount of bitterness towards Alana. She didn’t like being pitied. “I’m fine. It wasn’t worth mentioning.”

“Are you really? Because to me,” Alana said, gently tapping a dead light bulb, “it doesn’t look like you’re fine,” she finished.

Melissa knew better than to raise her voice to Alana, but her home was a touchy subject. “I said I’m fine, all right? I don’t need anyone to care about me. My parents didn’t want me, and you know what? That’s fine by me. In fact, I’m better off without them. I like living alone. Anything is better than that disgusting orphanage they stuck me in. Besides, I’m legally emancipated now. Paro took care of it for me a long time ago, so there’s nothing for you to worry about.”

“But I am worried,” Alana said. “You’re all alone here, and you don’t deserve to be.”

Melissa took another glass from the cabinet and threw it against the wall. “It doesn’t matter what I deserve!” she shouted. A few seconds later, she remembered who she was shouting at and lowered her eyes in shame. “I’m so sorry, I was just—”

“It’s fine,” Alana interrupted. “Like I said, some people need to let it all out, whereas other people like my idiotic—but adorable—son needs to learn to keep things inside.” Alana opened her mouth to say something else, but paused, forming a sly grin. She spun around and threw her coat over shoulders, straightening her posture into a position of command.

It was unexpected to say the least. Melissa wasn’t sure how to react, so she remained quiet.

“I’m ordering you to stay with me for a while. You can’t refuse me now, can you? Jack’s leaving soon, and you won’t have to worry about seeing him for a few months. Pack your bags, because you’ll be moving in with me for the summer.”

The words hit Melissa like a blast of icy wind, both refreshing and painful. It was at once both the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her, while also being the biggest attack on her pride. Melissa didn’t know how to respond; it was all so sudden. Alana removed her general’s coat and pulled Melissa once again into her arms.

“I’m sorry you had to grow up without a mother,” she said. “I know exactly what that’s like. I see so much of myself in you … well, the younger me, at any rate. Can I tell you something, Melissa? Something you have to promise you’ll never repeat, because you might just give my son a heart attack if you did.”

Melissa’s emotions were a mess. At first she was surprised, confused, angry, and somehow elated, but now she only felt curious. “What is it?” she asked.

“Do you want to know what Jack really thinks of you?”

Melissa felt herself blush, and she knew the color was draining out of her face.

What if it’s something bad? she wondered. What if Alana tells me something I really don’t want to hear?

“I’ll take your silence as a yes.” Alana retrieved two more cups from the cabinet. “Do you have tea?”

“Bottom drawer.”

Alana spoke as she brewed them tea. “Jack thinks you’re a Goddess. No, more than that, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him fall as head-over-heels for someone as he fell for you.”

“That’s impossible! How can you say that, when right in front of me he—”

“Hey! I’m not done,” Alana snapped. Melissa felt a pinch of fear. Every so often Alana reminded people she had a tougher side, one she wasn’t afraid to bring out when she needed to.

“I’ve heard him on the phone with his friend Adam, whom I’m sure you must’ve met by now. Do you remember the first night I met you? When you came by to tutor Jack? I knew quite a bit about you before you even walked through the door, just from all the hours Jack rambled about you on the phone. I’ve heard him say, ‘Oh, she’s so wonderful, Adam,’ or, ‘Oh, I think I’m in love,’ or, ‘She doesn’t even know I exist.’ I’ve heard them all, sweetie. Them, and plenty more.”

Melissa’s heart pounded in her chest. Did Jack really say all those things? Melissa knew Alana wouldn’t lie to her, but it was too much to take in. She felt tingly all over, and as Alana continued to speak, Melissa filled with determination, replacing her depressive sadness. She was angry, also, at Jack as well as at Juliette.

“Do you kind of get why this would be embarrassing to hear?” Alana asked, setting down the cups on the shabby table. “If Jack knew I told you these things, well, he’d probably need to be rushed to the hospital.”

Melissa sipped at the tea while she struggled to collect her thoughts. There was still a great deal that didn’t make sense. “Then why?” she asked. “If Jack really feels that way, then why did he throw it all away to kiss Requiem, or Juliette? Why did he make me feel like I wasn’t worth it?”

Alana inhaled the aroma before sipping her tea. “Because he’s an idiot, and I’m more disappointed in him for that—if you can believe it—than for what he did to Paro. He’s going to realize what a mistake he’s made, and when that happens, he’s going to remember who he really cares about. And the reason I’m telling you this is because I don’t want you doing anything out of character. Don’t change who you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, don’t just go running into his arms. Make him work twice as hard. Melissa, Jack loves you, and I can see you’re still skeptical, but you should know I’d never lie to you. Now more than ever, he needs to prove to you that you’re worth it. And he may be my son, but I’m on your side in this.”

For the second time that night, Melissa felt the tears come unbidden to her eyes. This time, she allowed them.

Jack licked his lips and turned over on his other side, flinging the pillow across the bed with him. He wiggled his toes and stretched his arms. He inhaled, enjoying the feeling of his lungs filling with fresh air.

Nothing like being in a comfortable bed, he thought with a sigh.

He stretched yet again and awaited more dreams. Maybe this time he’d be an astronaut on another planet, or maybe even a planet on another astronaut! Everything made sense in dreams. His favorites were the ones where he could fly or turn into a Super Saiyan. Jack loved sleep, and nothing made sleep better than a warm, comfortable bed.

Yeah, there’s nothing like a comfortable bed to bring in the good dreams.

He turned over one more time. Then it hit him.

Wait, why am I in a bed?

Jack’s eyes shot open, and he sprung up, throwing off the blanket. It was dark, and nothing near him looked familiar. He swung his head frantically around him, confused and worried. This wasn’t the first time he’d woken up dazed and delirious, feeling like he was in a strange place, but that usually passed after a few seconds. This time, it remained.

“Oh, god, I’ve been abducted by aliens. No!” Jack jumped off the bed and landed on soft carpet. His legs were still asleep, causing him to fall forward onto the floor. He bolted back up, and scrambled around the room, running his hands against the wall, hoping to find a light switch. “Where in the hell am I?” he murmured. Having just woken up made the confusion so much worse.

Finally, he found it, feeling the narrow bump in the wall. He flicked it, and at once the room illuminated. He knew this place—he’d been here before. It was one of those apartments at H.Q. He’d once spent a few nights here, back on his very first trip to headquarters. “Why am I here?”

Jack closed his eyes and tried to remember how he’d arrived. He remembered the date with Juliette, he remembered getting attacked by rogue Psychs, and he remembered answering all the boring questions. Then Deven came around, and…

“Oh, yeah,” Jack recalled grumpily. “That’s what happened. But wait. If I’m here, and not at home, then that means … yes! TV!”

Jack performed a wild maneuver. He jumped high into the air and came into a roll on top of the bed. He grabbed the remote off the nightstand and propped his feet up on the pillows. Then he pressed the power button on the remote.

“Oh, hell yeah,” he said with a chuckle. “CSI Miami, here I come. Hmm? What’s this?”

The T.V came on, but rather than being greeted with the face of an actor or an Orbit gum salesmen, General Moore’s visage filled the screen.

“Hey, Jack, if you’re watching this it means you’re awake. Unfortunately your mother wanted to make sure you’re not violating your punishment, so she’s asked me to leave you this video, and to have the TV disconnected to your room.”

Jack became sullen. “Oh, man. That’s not cool.”

“Don’t worry, though,” Deven said onscreen. “I’m not that cruel.”

“Haha!” Jack Cheered. “I knew Deven was a good guy! He’s gonna make the TV go back on, I bet.”

“So instead,” Deven continued, “I’ve recorded thirty minutes of me singing classical show tunes for your amusement. Please enjoy, as I worked really hard on these.”

“Gah!” Jack yelled, switching off the television as Deven’s horrendous singing voice filled the room. “That’s just plain wrong.”

Jack hopped out of the bed and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. It was just after four in the morning, and he was wide-awake. It was also the earliest Jack had ever woken up of his own free will. He crept to the other end of the room and silently opened the door, looking in both directions of the hallway before exiting.

The normally bright place was dim, lit by a few fluorescent lights on the ceiling. It was quiet, too. Jack reached the door at the end of the hall, ensuring he kept a slow, quiet pace. He carefully turned the knob, opening it just enough to slip through.

The place was mostly empty. The few times Jack had been to H.Q, the two-floor Juvenile department had buzzed with activity. Now, it was pretty much dead. The rows of cubicles with computers, filing cabinets, and staging rooms, were uninhabited save for a few late-night workers. Jack hugged the nearest wall and slithered along.

He was extra cautious as he passed by a small office with the lights on. It was the one parallel to Paro’s staging room. There were voices coming from inside of it. If Jack wanted to head home, he’d need to reach the elevator at the other end of the hall and then take a bus back to Jersey.

Jack dropped to the ground and crawled on the floor, avoiding the windows that were low enough so that anyone who happened to be looking through them would spot him. The voices coming from the office sounded familiar.

“How are you feeling, Kazou?” Paro asked.

Jack paused. Is Kazou in there?

“Get away from me!” Kazou snapped. “You kick me off the team and then have the nerve to pretend you care about me? Hah! Whatever, that’s fine. I can put that behind me, hell, even that I can forgive. But letting those involved with Shou’s murder go free? How could you do that to me, Paro? Am I truly nothing but dirt to you?”

Jack couldn’t see either of their faces, but he knew how Paro would react to those words. His face would turn into a grimace, his lips curling to meet at the halfway point between compassion and anger.

“We’re not an Op. team, dammit! Listen to yourself. Take a look at what you’ve become. You wanted me to murder them? One of them is just a child, you fool. Now more than ever, I’m glad I kicked you off the team. There’s too much hate in your heart, Kazou. I know what that’s like, believe me I do, but I won’t have it infecting the rest of my team.”

There were a few moments of silence, and Jack knew it would be a good time to move on, but try as he might his feet wouldn’t budge. He leaned closer to the wall and continued to eavesdrop.

“I know what Jack did on my behalf,” Kazou said. “The Psychs wouldn’t stop talking about it today. All day long they’ve been ranting about how General Harris’ kid tried to choke out his own team-leader, but I suspect only you, I, and the rest of the team know why.” Kazou laughed, and it was a rueful, shamed laugh. “In the end, he was the only one to stand by me, wasn’t he? I wonder if he knows I wanted him to be locked away after that horrible incident with the Andy boy, or that I thought he was a demon.”

I do now, Jack thought bitterly.

“I wonder if he would’ve stood by me then, if he knew I’d turned against him.”

Jack tossed the question around his mind and concluded that it changed nothing. He liked Kazou, and if it was up to him, Kazou would already be back on the team.

Having heard enough, he continued his crawl to the elevator. There were a few close calls along the way. A janitor almost spotted him from the upper floor after Jack bumped into a trashcan, and a secretary working late stopped typing when she saw Jack moving in the corner of her eye. Both times he avoided being caught, and when he arrived at the elevator he sighed in relief.

He stood back to his feet and pressed the call button. Every few seconds he glanced over his shoulder, worried he’d see Deven or another Psych approaching. There was a ring, and the door slid open. Before he could enter, a hand shot out from the opening elevator door and pulled him inside. Jack screamed in alarm.

“There you are,” a woman said.

Frightened, Jack stumbled away until his back hit the other end of the elevator. “W-Who are you?”

The woman was stunning. She wore a silk dress with an open back, complimenting her wavy brown hair and shimmering blue eyes. Part of her face was concealed behind a book.

“Hey!” Jack called. “I’m talking to you. Who are you?”

The woman didn’t respond. She continued to read her book, turning a page every so often. It was infuriating. Jack pestered her repeatedly for a response, but she ignored each demand. After what seemed like ages, she lowered the book and met his gaze. Jack was taken aback. Her eyes were deep, and they had an all-knowing quality to them.

“I am General Rose,” she said. “And you, Jack Harris, are right on time.”

“On time for what?”

The woman didn’t answer. She walked to the front of the elevator and pressed a button. There was a shake, and the elevator lurched downward, coming to a halt a few moments later. There was a familiar ring and the doors reopened.

“You’re on time for your flight, silly. Deven didn’t think you could be trusted to remain put until Friday, so he put you to sleep until then. Your mom came and tucked you in, and now here you are.”

Jack had to grab a side of the elevator to keep from falling off his feet. “Wait, what! Time out, time out! Are you saying it’s Friday right now? Hey, answer me!”

She didn’t respond. With one hand, she positioned the book back in front of her face, and with the other, she dragged Jack out of the elevator with surprising strength. Jack was beginning to see a pattern, and for the next few minutes, he didn’t pester her. When Jack continued to walk at her side without putting up a fight, she released his arm and let him walk on his own.

She paused at the sliding glass doors and turned to him. “Bad stuff would’ve happened if you left H.Q, and Deven felt it was easier to keep you asleep. You needed the rest, anyway, from all the beatings you’ve been getting. So yes, Jack Harris, it is Friday, and if you don’t hurry we’ll miss our flight. I’ll be taking you to your mission.”

“My what? Oh, yeah, that’s right.” Jack remembered. “I don’t know who you are, well, not really, but if you’re here to help me with that, then, thanks, I guess.”

Rose turned a full ten pages before responding, “You’re welcome.”