Summer & Others

Unwilling to leave Conan alone, Summer had spent the night in the rocking chair, waking up often through the night to check on the boy, or to coax him out of a nightmare if she noticed he was getting restless in his sleep. When morning came, she was as wide awake as if she'd had a sound sleep, and was already brewing some tea and putting some bacon on the skillet to fry.

During her cooking, Summer was interrupted by a knocking at the door, and when she went to answer it, she had a pleasant smile to offer the visitor. Benjamin stood there in casual attire, spectacles, spiky hair, and a simple vest to ward off the brisk morning. The two chatted for a few moments before Summer invited him in. After being offered a place to sit down, Benjamin took a seat at the table and continued a pleasant chatter with Summer as the smell of brewing tea and cooking meat filled the entire house.

Conan

Unfortunately, Conan's sleep of the night before had been only marginally better than that he'd been cursed with all the nights before; the combination of the multiple strains upon him were really taking their toll on his health. He'd spent a restless night, tossing and turning frequently but never quite waking up, even when Summer's soft tones had sounded to soothe him out of the nightmares. And he wasn't much better this morning; he'd sunk into a still, silent mode of sleep just before dawn, his still too-pale face composed in a thoughtful frown - and now with the household waking up around him, the soft talking in the kitchen of the small trailer caught his attention, even in his fitful sleep. Soon enough, the boy stirred and moved to push off the couch to sit up - and immediately half-suppressed a moan and sank back down, finding the pain of his bruised middle, in combination with the continued exhaustion that didn't seem to let up, was more than he could handle if he tried to sit up.

Summer Wallock

Abandoning the breakfast, Summer hustled over to the couch when she heard Conan moan, and had turned her head in time to see him sink back down. Benjamin went quiet and donned a look of startled concern that only Conan would understand as fake. "Careful sweetie, don't move around too fast." She urged gently, reaching to reposition the blankets around him that had been mussed up when he'd sat up so abruptly. "Take easy for a little while, yet." She wasn't to the point where she was going to take him to the hospital, and was keen to find out what happened to him first before she did anything. If it was hard enough for him to talk to her about his problems, she seriously doubted he'd appreciate the hospital staff questioning him endless about his bruises.

Conan

He didn't need further encouragement to remain still - the pain that had lit up through his stomach and the nausea that had accompanied it convinced him to lie down and stay down, even before Summer bustled over to take care of him. But though he lay still and allowed her to rearrange his blankets so that they covered him more fully again, his voice sounded in a harsh whisper.
"What's... 'e doin' 'ere?" There was only one man in the room aside from himself, so it was clear just who he was asking this about, but the hiss of his voice made it clear that he wasn't pleased to see the man seated at the kitchen table, and wasn't fooled by the false show of concern. Of course, this could more quickly be written up to the fever that still hadn't let up than to his personal distaste for the man, which Summer knew nothing about, for the moment.

Summer Wallock

The unpleasantness in his voice surprised her somewhat, but what with his illness and injuries, she wrote it off as general irritability. Still... she was not a naive woman, and understood that Conan had fallen under some rough hands at some point yesterday, and while Benjamin was able to fool her with his manners and charm, she was just a little more guarded of Conan than usual. "He says you haven't been out to see to the horses lately, and he wanted to make sure you're doing alright." By all appearances, Ben looked as far from a someone who'd just murdered another human last night. "Ben wants to talk to you later, but I want you to rest up a bit and take things easy."

Conan

Yeah - I'll just bet he did... that was what Conan wanted to say, but even as Summer's words made it home to him, the teen recovered some of his senses, and knew that striking at Ben would only serve to cause more trouble - the Wallocks didn't merit the kind of immunity in Ben's eyes as Aralyn did. He knew for a fact that if Ben thought killing them would get to Conan, he would do it. So with that in mind, he closed his eyes briefly to compose himself, and then opened them again, telling her firmly, "No - I'm well 'nuff now. Let 'im... come say wha' 'e needs ta say. Might's well... 'ave it done wit', since I'm 'wake now."

Summer Wallock

The sad smile was adopted on her face once more, coming no where near pleasant, but not willing to turn into a frown or otherwise greatly unhappy expression. She had half a mind to send Ben politely away until Conan got more rest, but the man had such a way with words... and besides, he'd said the news was good, and Summer was willing to direct anything positive she could in the boy's direction.

Getting a nod from Summer, Ben took up a new seat in the rocking chair near the couch, "This probably isn't the best time to be troubling you, but I heard you could use some cheering up." The words, and the kindly tones they were carried in were shockingly contradictory to the voice that had greeted the boy last night, "When you're feeling more up to it, I've got a favor to ask of you. I've come into ownership of a black stallion just this morning; the owner passed away last night, and the horse was so wild they were going to send him to slaughter if no one took him up. I thought you might be able to help me re-train him?" It was almost entirely a lie about needing help with the hourse, but the veiled words were there under it all for Conan to pick up. The assassination was a success.

Conan

Oh, how he wanted to wipe that kindly smile right off of Ben's face - that impulse surged violently through him, bringing a small flush of color to his whitened face. It was one of Ben's greatest pleasures, he knew, to mock him in this way in front of Summer so that the boy didn't dare lose control and respond to the older man in the manner that he wanted to. And he realized, even as he closed his eyes, knowing that he could do so and Summer would write it off to his illness and weariness, and tried to set his thoughts in order. To his surprise, he had trouble doing so - he chose to blame it on the fever rather than any feelings attached to the subtle way Ben chose to inform him that his father was dead. Finally he asked, without opening his eyes, "This... stall-ion. Ninete-en hands high, wit' no markin's save a small whi'e patch on... the left hin', and a streak of whi'e thru tha mane?" This question was two fold - first, to indicate to Ben that he knew the horse well, because his description fit Bishop to a T... and secondly, just to confirm, in their own subtle way, that this was the hint the man was trying to give him to say that the father was definitely dead.

Summer Wallock

Ever taunting, that smile remained neatly in place, not over bearing and not falsely thin. "Yes, that sounds just like him." Benjamin nodded his head once, secretly reveling in the way Conan was stuck as he was, forced to play along in the charades unless he wanted to put Summer and the family in danger, "I think I've seen him around town a few times before this. If I'm not mistaken, his owner use to live out in a house near Pike's Lake." Another reference that Conan would grasp, and a sort of confirmation for what Conan was trying to seek. Unaware of what all was being said right in front of her, Summer's solemn smiled cheered up a little to hear Conan's voice continuing on. It had been so long that he'd been without words that she saw ever new one he produced as a step in the right direction.

Conan

"Yeah - and b'fore tha','e belon'ed to... a fe-ella who liv'd out pas' you - on the lon' end of Stony 'allow, if my mem'ry does not fail me. Num'er 113, I thin'." That was the boy's quiet answer as he shifted a little, wincing as he again moved a bit too much for comfort. Settling quickly, he continued, "'is name's... Bishop. An' I'll tell ya now... 'e is the kind'll brain a man. Doesn'... like 'em, see? Bes' use... a wom'n, if'n ya want ta... git thru ta 'im." He took a small amount of pleasure in informing Ben of that - Bishop would be useless to him, unless Ben found a woman to tame him - and with no women really in his power save for Aralyn, and him not inclined to ask it of her when she was still so weakened from delivering her twins, he knew there was little the man could do to tame him. A minor victory, yes - but Conan would take them where he could get them. Unfortunately, his continued use of his voice brought a long round of coughing out of him, leaving him gasping at the end and looking even more vulnerable, when that was the last thing he needed to look before the prodding intelligence of this man.

Summer Wallock

If Benjamin was upset at hearing this, he didn't let on in the slightest fashion, "Now that you mention it, I do remember seeing him around in that area." He took a moment to glance at his clock, then to Summer as he spoke aloud to the both of them, "Ah, I'm afraid I have to cut this short. When you're feeling better, you can stop by any time. Now, I'd better leave you to your rest." Standing up, Benjamin took the time to shake hands with Summer and bid her a farewell. And after Ben had taken leave of the residence, Summer was fetching a fresh cup of tea and returning to Conan with it, "Try to take some of this, it should sooth your throat some."

Conan

Conan barely noticed whatever it was that Ben said in farewell - his mind was swirling with thoughts. He managed to keep his face basically calm until after the man had shaken hands with Summer and left - but by the time she had fetched the tea and come back toward him with it, he had fought the pain to turn over on his other side, so that his eyes were facing the couch back. He had curled into a ball around the bruises in his stomach, pulling the blankets into a knot around himself - but it had little to do with the pain. His eyes were still closed - more tightly, if that were possible - and if she listened hard enough, she might hear him murmur under his breath, "Dear God...," which was unusual, because he'd never before spoken about any sort of deity in his months here. And now, it was clearly not a request for help from an omnipotent being - it was an expression of incredulity and shock. Of... not quite knowing what to believe about what he'd just been told, and it didn't at all match the casual conversation he'd just carried out with Ben. He didn't seem to hear Summer, and didn't reach out to take the tea... he lay there, lost in his thoughts.

Summer Wallock

Sitting on the couch again, and not thinking twice as the cup was set aside and quickly forgotten about, Summer again felt that rush of worry swarm through her. As far as she'd understood from the conversation, she thought Conan would be happy to hear about a horse, and she had even been wanting to suggest that he and Aralyn spend some time with Bishop when he was feeling better on his feet. All of that went out the window right now, "Conan, what is it?" The concern was reflected in her kindly tones, "Sweetie, I know someone hurt you... won't you tell me what happened?" Now probably wasn't the best time to be bringing it up, but it was clear that he was upset, and she had a hunch it was about whatever happened last night.

Conan

There was a long, tense silence where Conan kept his back to her, and never tried to look in her direction. She ought to be used to this kind of silence by now - this was the point in the conversation where his want to trust her with information always butted against what the first fifteen years of his life had told him: no one could be trusted. One hand reached forward and gripped the material of the couch as if to hold himself still; it felt like the world was tilting around him because he was fighting so hard with himself. It was a long few moments, with his hand clutched white-knuckled in the couch, before he managed a faint whisper. "Bishop was my father's horse. And... the bruises... came from my father." His voice trembled now - he'd never dared even think that to himself, while Michael was alive. Even now that he was dead, he barely dared breathe it to Summer. Aralyn had known about the father's mistreatment of his son because she had witnessed it a few times - this was the first time he'd spoken it out loud, and he shook violently with the effect it had on him.

Come along, love, come fly away, fly along,
Come along, fly away home.
Come along, love, you've come a long way,
You've flown all the day,
Fly away home.

Coming a terrible storm,
Shaking the souls of the dead,
Quaking the floor underfoot,
Shaking the roof over head!
Not since I was a child
Have I feared!

Summer Wallock

Summer waited there patiently, not about to force him into talking about something, especially when it had such a profound impact on the boy. She didn't think she'd ever seen him quite this anguished before, though she knew a good part of his misery had to do with Raimi's disappearance. Waiting for what seemed like forever, Summer was hesitantly surprised when Conan finally chose to trust her, and to confess a dark secret he'd been keeping to himself for so long.

Summer didn't know whether she was more stunned by the knowledge of his abusive father, or the bizarre coincidence that Benjamin just happened to stop in and announce that the man was dead. Part of her instantly felt suspicion rear up in the back of her mind, while the other half of her was unable to see past the gentle charm of Ben to even begin to think he'd do anything harmful to anyone. Of course, more striking than that... Conan had been with his father the night he died... Mindfully avoiding that anomaly, Summer dared for the third time in less than a day's time to lay a hand on his shoulder. "He's a wicked soul to hurt you like that." The woman murmured quietly, feeling the thrum of injustice and sorrow for now knowing what had happened to the boy, and being unable to protect him from it. Putting aside the idea that Conan might have murdered his father, Summer spoke soothingly still, "He can't hurt you anymore."

Conan

There was a long moment where it seemed that he would withdraw again, back into that deep hole within himself where he kept those quieter, more gentle parts of him safe. They peered out of that hole occasionally, when he cuddled and played with Raimi, when he petted one of the cats or worked with Ammit or the other horses - some little innocent nature left in him was kept desperately alive behind those walls, on the off chance that it would ever be free again. But for the most part, he kept it concealed; only for this moment, that wall between that innocence and the outside world was breached, and his soul was exposed. That was why he shook in the face of it - and that was why it took him so long to gather himself. There was a breathless moment where he stood on the edge and nearly drew back out of fear, nearly receded into himself again - and then he found courage, and his hand raised from his side, reaching backward at an awkward angle to lay his hand over hers on his shoulder. "At leas'... 'e was hones' about hatin' me. Ma was... sly." It was near-impossible for her to see it, due to the fact that she was seated basically behind him, but if she moved just right or got at the perfect angle, she might see a glimmer in his eyes to belie the calmness of his voice. What was impossible to see was the fact that tears had already spilled down the other cheek, where it was safely disguised against the couch material and there was no danger of Summer spotting them.

There's a man who no one sees,
There's a man who lives alone.
There's a heart that beats in silence for
The life he's never known.

Summer Wallock

The way he reached to put a hand over hers signified an important step in the teen, further establishing that he was accepting of her touch on this occasion. With that comfort zone confirmed, she didn't push it any further, and didn't go on to rub at his shoulder in the way that she would with Greg when he was particularly upset with something. She merely left her hand there, as a sign that she was there and listening, remaining quiet until he'd again built up enough resolve to speak to her. What caught her attention in his next sentences was the tense he used; 'was' sly. So both parents were dead, leaving him officially on his own, as she'd never heard anything about grandparents or other relatives. "You won't have to go back to that anymore." Summer repeated, a little more soundly this time. She didn't notice the tears, but she wouldn't have been surprised to see them in any case, with as heavy a subject as he was revealing, "You've got a family with us now, Conan, and you always will."

Conan

Okay..." the teen whispered, his voice breathy as he shifted against the couch and readjusted himself more comfortably. "Okay..." And his words stopped there, replaced by the heavy sounds of his breathing - there was so much thrumming through him that he couldn't find more words. But he didn't take his hand back; he let her keep it as he slowly unwound. And after several minutes had passed, the limpness of his hand over hers and the slow, steady sound of his breathing revealed that he'd fallen asleep again - but thankfully, his rest was more peaceful now than it had been the night before. Perhaps this might see an improvement in his health.

Summer Wallock

Again, Summer hadn't interrupted the silence that settled, or prodded him for any more information. He'd already offerd her more insight into his past that she had heard from him in the time he'd been in her house. Now, she could understand more definitely where some of his behavior stemmed, from his zealous protection of Raimi to the way he shied from touch and reacted in blind instinct with his blade - she understood in a vague sense why he was like that, but now she the reason had been narrowed down. When he'd given into the peaceful sleep he'd been deprived of for so long, Summer gently reclaimed her hand, drew the blankets up around his shoulders, and quietly went back to the stove, feeling a little better about the whole thing.