Jonathan sat next to Nadjia on the layers of blankets atop their grassy knoll.
Nadjia was tense, and quiet.
Jonathan put his arm around her. "It's trash that they moved your Christmas formal to the new year."
Nadjia nodded.
"Hey, you okay?"
Nadjia placed a hand over her stomach. "I think so. I don't know, Jon. I'm uh. Late."
Jonathan sat there quietly with his arm around Nadjia. "No, I think you're right on time. New Year's is still about three minutes off, and..."
Oh, shit.
Nadjia heard him, though he said nothing aloud. "Yes, Jonathan. Late. Idiot boy.
Jonathan sighed. "Are you sure?"
"I think I would know better than anyone."
"Oh, man. Daddy's gonna take the T-Bird away."
Nadjia giggled, blinking back tears. "Jon, I'm not even out of highschool. What are we going to do?"
"Tell the truth. They're not going to be angry as much as you think. We're married in a year. Maybe we have to push the date up."
Nadjia was quiet for what felt like a long time. "It's midnight, baby. You're supposed to kiss me."
Jonathan did.
Overhead, there were no fireworks.
The weather did not permit.
The skies, characteristic of Driftwood, were gray, and thick with clouds. This was a long time now, the storm clouds, always threatening rain, but never fulfilling the promise. They were two of the few who still attended New Years in the Twin Knolls Park.
"Love me."
"Here? There's people!"
Nadjia shrugged. "So what?"
"All that lovin's put us in a dilemma already."
"Nobody comes up here, Jon. This is our place. Let us keep it that way."
✟ ☧ ✟
"Dad?"
Clayton, and Jonathan stood alone, searching for a proper tuxedo for the oddly after Christmas, Christmas Formal. "Jonathan, how is it you don't have a tuxedo?"
"There's no dances in Advanced Education. Never needed one. Dad, I need to talk to you, and it needs to stay between us... No one can know yet."
Clayton continued as though Jonathan had not spoken. "Okay. We'll go classic black for your tuxedo. Let's get you a few suits, too. A man should have suits."
"Dad!"
Clayton stopped shifting through the tuxedos. "Yeah, boy?"
"Nadjia's late."
"What are you talking about? The dance isn't even until..."
Oh, shit.
"Yeah." Jonathan nodded. "Late."
Clayton's face turned pale, and from his pallor, varying shades of red until his face was crimson. "How?"
"I'm pretty sure you know how."
"Boy."
"Dad..."
Clayton took a deep breath, and exhaled, his face cooling to its normal color. "Okay, this isn't a bad thing. A little sooner than we hoped, right? How did you manage - when did you manage?"
"You know that weekend you took David to see Grandpa? Well. Starting there... and uh. We didn't stop."
"This definitely puts a speed on things." Clayton dug his hands into his pockets. "...but, uh... I planned on giving you something for tonight, anyway."
"Is that something a whoopin'?"
Clayton looked grim, but he laughed out loud. Louder than Jonathan would have preferred. "No, boy. You did your schooling. All the waiting was for her to graduate. It wouldn't be the first time someone in The Order did this. I'd have preferred you waited... but I understand."
"You do?"
"I didn't exactly wait."
"I don't want to know about you and mom, please."
Clayton drew his left hand from his pocket, and scratched at the back of his collar. "No... maybe a year or two before your mom. I'll spare you any details. For now."
"We're were going to tell after Christmas formal."
"You'll do no such thing. We need to get on damage control. You two will go to the dance tonight. When you pick Nadjia up, you're going to propose in front of Nida, and Amir."
"Alone?"
"Ain't nobody else went and put a baby on her oven but you, boy. Man up. You did your schoolin', and she's done hers."
"She has a year left."
"I don't see that working out in her favor, do you? You'll propose, she'll accept, Nida and Amir will graciously accept, I'll make sure of that, and then Nadjia will have to homeschool the minute she starts showing."
"Are you mad at me?"
"I'm surprised."
"Are you?"
"At the whole late part. I'm not saying I'm okay with your proclivities, but you do understand there's such a thing as contraception. For a reason."
"Keep it down, dad. Please."
Clayton began picking through the tuxedos again. "Three suits. Two for wear, one for funerals... and this. Clayton drew a tuxedo from the rack. It was black, and the coat was cut long, and straight.
"That looks like something you'd see a gambler wear in a western."
"You'll look perfect. You'll need a black shirt, an a red tie."
"That's pretty grim look."
"No, son. It's very Walker. It's bold. In a dance full of adolescent penguins, you'll be the only one who stands out."
"I don't know if that's a good thing."
"You'll see." Clayton drew his right hand out of his pocket, and with it a small box. "In this box is your great grandmother's wedding ring."
"Isn't that mom's?"
"Yours now. Rather. Nadjia's. You'll arrive early. Do exactly as I instructed. Then go on with your evening, and we'll let your mom, Nida, and Nadjia start planning."
"What about... you know."
"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."
✟ ☧ ✟
Jonathan pulled into Nadjia's driveway five-o-clock sharp, to see Solomon Dean's car parked behind Amir and Nida's. Jonathan pulled his 1978 Lincoln Town car to a stop, jolting himself as the car lurched forward. Jonathan felt warmth in his cheeks. From time-to-time, he was still a little too heavy on the brake.
He opened the driver side door, stepping carefully out, and straightening his tuxedo. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back with his fingers, and cursing himself for the traces of pomade now on his hand. Jonathan made his way to the trunk of his car, and opened it, rummaging through until he found a shammies cloth. He wiped his hand clean, and scratched at the back of his neck. Four years advanced education, and considering the context of his education, he was still nervous.
Jonathan shut the trunk, and saw his father standing just outside the door to Nadjia's house up the walkway.
He motioned for Jonathan to hurry, and Jonathan nodded.
✟ ☧ ✟
Nida, and Amir stood in the den with solemn expressions, opposite Solomon Dean, Clayton and Emily Walker, as his baby brother David, no longer a squirming mass of wrinkled alien baby, but a squirming toddler, played with Suheila.
Jonathan stood just beyond the doorway, the door closed behind him.
The Last Waltz played quietly on the record player.
"Hello, Jonathan." Nida smiled, and waved, her brimming eyes as blue as Nadjia's.
"Boy." Amir nodded, his expression softening.
Jonathan nodded his head toward them in respect, and stepped from the stairwell into the den.
He stopped an arm's length from Nida, and Amir. "You've been my family as long as I can remember. It would be... I can think of no one else, besides my own, that I want to call mom, and dad. Mr. Sharif - Amir - I would like your permission to ask your Nadjia for her hand in marriage."
Amir looked past Jonathan, to Clayton, and Solomon, nodding slowly. "You are a good boy, Jonathan Walker. I protest your proposal... you two are very young, yet. Still, I cannot deny you are best possible man for my daughter, even in your youth. You have my blessing."
Nida placed a hand on Jonathan's cheek. "...and mine."
Amir wiped his eyes with his forearm, and cleared his throat. "Nadjia! Will you stay up there the entire evening?"
Her voice echoed from the hall, down the stairwell. "Only a minute more, please!"
Jonathan turned, and faced the stairwell with the rest, his mom and dad closing the distance to stand beside he, and his future in-laws.
Nadjia descended the stairwell slowly, carefully, her formal gown an emerald green crushed velvet, form fitting, stopping just above high heels the same color as her gown.
Jonathan's jaw went slack, and Nadjia seeing his expression, smiled broadly, adjusting the black choker on her neck. "I wanted something to match your eyes..."
Nadjia saw the small crowd in the den and stopped mid stairs.
Suheila pulled David's hair, and David shouted out in surprise, and began crying. Emily Walker hurried to him, and scooped him up in an arm. She stepped carefully back to Clayton's side, setting David at her feet.
David crawled back toward Suheila.
"Jonathan?"
"Hello, Nadjia." Jonathan departed from the group, and continued to the base of the stairwell. Nadjia continued down, taking his hands as she descended the last step. Jonathan led her from the stairwell, through the foyer, and into the den.
There was complete silence as Jonathan took a knee, the collective draw of breath from their families held. Nadjia drew her hand away from Jonathan, covering her mouth, wide eyes welling up.
"My entire life is yours, and no other. You've been - you are - and always will be my best friend. Nadjia Sharif, will you..." Jonathan felt himself choking up. David yelped, and somewhere fading from the world where there was only he, and Nadjia in the moment, Jonathan found his voice. "You're my best friend. I love you. Will you marry me?"
Jonathan presented her with the ring, a simple gold band with a modest diamond set in its center.
Nadjia nodded, and tears spilled down her cheeks. Clayton rushed to Jonathan's side, drawing a handkerchief from his pocket. He handed it to Nadjia who padded it over her cheeks as Jonathan took her left hand, and tenderly slid the ring onto her ring finger.
Everyone exhaled collectively, and suddenly Jonathan, and Nadjia were in a tight embrace. Nida, and Amir held them a long time, until Nadjia gently pushed her parents free.
Nida wiped her eyes. Amir blinked, a lot, and cleared his throat. Emily, and Clayton held their heads high, Clayton nodding at his son in approval.
Suheila cried out in surprise, David this time had a fist full of her hair, and was attempting to drag her by it. This broke the moment, and Nadjia laughed. Jonathan joined in her laughter as Nida, and Emily pried their children apart.
Nadjia turned, and embraced Jonathan. Her whisper caressed his ear. "She's going to cause a lot of trouble for David."
"Not with you to guide her."
Nadjia's eyes were shut tight, her heart thundering in her chest. "Thank you, Jonathan. Thank you, thank you..."
Jonathan held her right in his arms. The dance felt so far away. He wanted to stay here in her arms the whole night.
"Nadjia? Jonathan?"
Jonathan released Nadjia, and they moved side by side. Jonathan felt himself blushing. "Yes, Mr. Dean?"
"You've a seven-thirty reservation for dinner, which gives us about a half hour. I'll be your driver this evening."
"I brought my own car." Jonathan pointed in the direction of the driveway.
"Yes, but you may want to enjoy riding with Nadjia, tonight."
Nadjia nodded. "That would be perfect, Jon could we, please?"
Jonathan agreed. "It sounds great. Do you need me to move my heap?"
"Your limousine is waiting for you, curbside."
✟ ☧ ✟
Jonathan walked Nadjia from the curb, up her driveway, and to her door, Nadjia admiring her ring the entire way. "I'm going to be Mrs. Nadjia Walker."
"Are you sure you wouldn't I rather call you Natalie Walker?"
Nadjia slapped him in the shoulder. "Idiot boy."
"You sure you don't want me to stay? I can sleep on the couch."
"Go home, get rest. Tomorrow I want you to take me window shopping. Wedding stuff."
The night was still; quiet. The garden was empty, the leafless trees empty. "That stupid owl is gone."
"Good." Nadjia stared into the trees with Jonathan. "That stupid bird was beginning to get creepy."
"Tomorrow, then?"
"Well... when you get home, if you decide you can't stay away, you can come back... but really, tomorrow is fine."
"Very well." He pulled her close, and kissed her bottom lip, then her nose. "Tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Jonathan Walker. I cannot wait to be your wife."
✟ ☧ ✟
Nadjia smiled her entire shower, running her hand over her belly. She spent a good part of her shower smiling, laughing, crying, and smiling again.
She was just dressed in her night clothes - Jonathan's sweatpants, and shirt from his time in Advanced Education - and just getting comfortable when she heard light rapping at the door downstairs.
Nadjia crept into the hallway. Her parents door was closed, and she could hear her father's loud snoring, even through their closed door. She heard the light rapping again, and felt a thrill run through her. Nadjia hurried down the hall, down the stairs, and to the door.
She opened it wide, and took a large step back, eyes wide, jaw slack.
Trent stepped into the doorway, dressed in a tuxedo, a bouquet of red roses in one hand, his other hand behind his back. "Hello, Nadjia."
Nadjia rushed for the door, but before she could close it, Trent put a foot down to pin the door back and offered her the roses. He stood there, arm extended, his other hand hidden behind his back. "I missed the dance tonight, and thought you might do me the honor?"
Nadjia lowered her voice to a hush. "Go home, Trent!"
Trent shrugged, and dropped the roses at her feet. "So much for that."
He revealed his hand, a large butcher knife glinting in the porchlight. Before Nadjia could react, he stepped past the threshold, plunging the knife between her ribs. Nadjia's eyes were wide, and she stumbled forward into Trent pushing the blade deeper through her ribs.
Jonathan! Oh, God, Jonathan! Please, come.
Nadjia tried to scream, but only managed to produce a whimper.
"Shhh." Trent cooed, holding her tightly to him in his free arm. He struggled a moment, pulling the knife free, and plunged it into her again, this time the other side of her body, pushing the blade deep into her until her felt his fingers up against her.
Nadjia's knees gave out, and Trent caught her, carefully, and quietly dragging her through the foyer to her stairwell.
He drew the full length of the knife from her, the blade making a wet metal sound. He leaned over her, kissed her cheek. She felt his hot breath on her ear. "You ruined everything. I saw everything. Everything. He stayed over. You took him to the ruins. The falls... those places belonged to us... and you soiled it."
Trent pulled away, staring down at Nadjia. Her expression was hard, her eyes furious. Nadjia spat, and the spray of blood and spit spatter Trent's face.
Jonathan! I can't leave you! Not when we just found each other, really found -
Trent pressed the blade of his butcher knife into her throat, and drew it sharply across. Blood sprayed him across his tuxedo. Nadjia reached out for him, pulling him to her by his blood soaked tuxedo coat, and leaning in the best she could, she bit his cheek, clamping down hard as she could. Her world began to fade.
The pain was long past, now; the strength in her arms, gone. She felt her pulse desperately trying to push blood through her body. She fought to keep consciousness, glaring at Trent as he pulled away, leaving a chunk of his cheek in her mouth.
Nadjia stared, tears spilling down her cheeks.
Jonathan.
...Jonathan I'm so sorry.
...I'm... so....
Trent stood over Nadjia's body. She was gone. He held his cheek, staring into Nadjia's frozen expression, her deep blue eyes staring into him, through him. She was not so gone. Not yet.
He straddled her over the stairs, culling her cheek in his hand. "You won't be needing those anymore."
Trent steadied the tip of his butcher knife over Nadjia's accusing eyes, and one at a time, he began to carve.
✟ ☧ ✟
Jonathan woke, startled. Nadjia sat at his bedside looking very comfortable in his sweats, oversized and baggy on her body.
"I thought you told me to come over. Couldn't stay away?"
Nadjia shook her head. "I had to see you again, baby. I couldn't stay away."
Jonathan sat up, still in his tuxedo.
"Lazy." Nadjia smirked, and stood up, gliding graceful across the plush carpet of his bedroom. She found his record player. "Our song."
Nadjia lifted the record, and showed it to him, but he could not see the label so well in the dark. Still, he knew it well. It was the only record he owned, or needed, considering he owned an eight track, and a cassette player.
Nadjia replaced the vinyl on the record player, and set the needle. The Last Waltz began to play.
"Will you dance with me, Jon?"
"You should turn the volume down, you'll wake my folks."
"You'll be fine, Jon. I promise."
Jonathan got out of bed, and found himself in Nadjia's arms.
"Jonathan, I'm so sorry."
They danced.
"What? Why?"
"Jon, stay with me a little longer, please. Your mom and dad are coming."
"No, it's okay Nadj. We're going to be married."
She shook her head. "I can't marry you, baby."
Jonathan felt her tears on his cheek, and found himself alone in his room, in the dark.
In silence.
Jonathan.
His mother's voice echoed around him.
Jonathan wake up.
"Wait." Nadjia's hand was on his shoulder, behind him. Jonathan tried to turn, and she stopped him. "Don't turn around. Jon. When you wake up... don't go to see me."
"Nadjia, what the hell are you saying?"
She giggled, but it was a sad sound in his ears. "You idiot boy. Listen to me just this once. Wake up - stay home - and let your parents help you."
"What do you mean wake up?"
"...just this once, don't run to me. Please?"
"Nadjia!"
"You'll be okay, baby..."
Jonathan! Wake up!
Wake up, boy...
✟ ☧ ✟
Don't go to see me.
Jonathan opened his eyes, his vision blurry a moment. He slowly focused in the face of his mother. "Mom?"
"Jonathan, darling," his mother's whisper was broken. She was crying - looked like she was crying a while. "I need you to be strong please."
"Wait - why?" Panicked, Jonathan sat up suddenly in his bed. "No!"
"Jonathan..." he heard his father's voice cut in, His father sat at the foot of his bed, his hand resting firmly on Jonathan's legs. Clayton's cheeks were wet. Clayton Walker was crying.
"Listen, for a moment." Emily choked, her voice cracking.
"No!" Jonathan wrestled his feet free from his Clayton's hands, and swung them around over the side of his bed, pushing his mother to the side. He was on his feet, and rushing for the door, but not before Clayton was on him. Jonathan ducked, and Clayton rolled over him, landing on his flat on his back. Jonathan was up again, in a mad rush for the door. He leapt the full length of his father, and out the door, through the long hall, and down the stairs.
Clayton rolled over, pushing himself onto his feet in time to hear Jonathan opening the front door, and before he could get to the hallway, Jonathan was gone.
✟ ☧ ✟
Jonathan ran.
He was long off the main roads and into the darkness of the woods, his bare feet cut by stone and splintered wood. Jonathan ignored the pain, dodging trees and fallen boughs along his way.
(...if I found out on my own, I woulda run the whole way to visit you...)
Jonathan ducked below branches, and cleared the width of the dry brook in a leap.
(I believe you... We need to talk, okay? You have to promise not to get mad...)
Jonathan cleared the woods, into the meadow, the sky black overhead and void of stars, hidden behind a thick blanket of black clouds.
(When you wake,
do not come
to see me.)
(...just this once, do not run to me.)
Jonathan sped through the clearing, rushing toward the flickering strobe of blue and red lights beyond the hedges surrounding Nadjia's home.
He could hear Nida's wailing from the street. Jonathan stopped, skidding along the bleeding soles of his feet, leaving trails of blood and torn flesh on the asphalt.
(Jonathan! No!)
✟ ☧ ✟
The world around him was mute, a black tunnel up the driveway between he, and a gurney covered in a bloodstained white sheet. Jonathan rushed along the pavement leaving a trail of bloody footsteps behind him, breaking through crime scene tape and putting two officers down before they could stop him.
Green eyes wide, teeth clenched, Jonathan caught a baton across the forearm and snaked his wrist around it, gripping it tightly. He disarmed the officer on a single motion, and swung it across the man's jaw. The sound of the the man's face cracked with a wet pop, spattering blood, and teeth across the walkway.
The remaining police rushed in, dispensing chemical agents - mace - and swinging batons. Jonathan collapsed, eyes red, clenched shut, coughing beneath a dog pile of police.
Amir wrestled with the dog-pile, pulling the officers away one at a time, only for another to replace him; there was a sharp crack, and Amir's legs gave way as he collapsed to his knees.
Disengage!
Nida screamed, wailing over Nadjia's body, hidden beneath the bloodied white sheet.
Disengage, now!
Somewhere in the chaos, an massive man clad in a beige trench coat waved a badge in one hand, and an enormous gun in the other. "Disengage!"
The detective loosed two shots into the black night sky.
Silence after.
Amir, one wrist in handcuffs and the other free, swung wild at the arresting officer.
Jonathan burst through the dog-pile, throwing two officers and kicking three more away,
"Freeze punk!"
Jonathan felt the large barrel against the tip of his nose. He stared down the barrel, and into the eyes of the enormous detective. "Put that down."
"Put your hands up. Now!"
Jonathan gripped the barrel of the large pistol, and thrust his other hand, the meat between his thumb and forefinger in-between the hammer and receiver. The detective pulled the trigger and the hammer struck down over Jonathan's hand. He screamed, and tore the pistol away from the detective, drawing the hammer back, and disengaging the cylinder on a single motion. He swung the pistol by its barrel and bludgeoned the detective across the cheek; the detective's legs gave out, and he collapsed onto his backside.
Jonathan heard a number of pistols drawn, and cocked.
"Jonathan! Stop!" Nida's sobbing carried over the new silence.
"Hold your fire!" The detective clambered off his backside, onto his feet. "Hold your fire! Holster your weapons, now!"
Jonathan stared the detective in the eyes, nose running, slobber running down his chin. The detective spoke calmly. "Jonathan, is it? Son, I need you to go ahead and give me back my gun."
Jonathan stood his ground.
Behind the detective, Clayton pulled into the driveway. He was parked, engine still running and out the driver side door rushing driveway. Almost immediately recognition spread over the faces of a number of the police on scene, even as new cars pulled slowly in behind Clayton.
"That is my son! You will stand down, or you will answer to me. You're standing between he and his wife!"
The red, and blue flashing strobes flickered across the garden, the walkway, the driveway, casting a preternatural light in Clayton's eyes. The large detective gingerly plucked his pistol from Jonathan's hand, and holstered it beneath his suit jacket, he turned to face Clayton.
"This is my crime scene. Under whose authority are you acting?"
"Detective. You're new here. What is your name?"
"Frederick Polovatski."
"Polovatski. Alright, my name is Clayton Walker. I am acting under the authority of Judge Samael Grifford. Iam ceased actio."
"I don't know a Judge Grifford, and he doesn't run this department." Even as Detective Polovatski started, all of the police on site began disengaging.
"You have no idea to whom you're talking, but if you're going to be a loose cannon, you're on your own."
Jonathan stalked past the officers closest to him, each the officers dropping their eyes to the ground as he did. Jonathan was pale,leaving behind him a trail of fresh, bloodied footprints. He continued past Nida, and when he found Najdia, he put his hands over the sheet on the gurney, dropped to his knees, and he wept.
Clayton stood in his place, his eyes wet as he blinked back tears.
In the passenger seat of his car, Emily Walker sobbed while holding a round eyed, curious David Walker. The toddler was enchanted by the lights, unable to understand why mommy was crying, or what all the people at this party meant.
He waved at the large man standing across from his daddy.
Jonathan threw his head back and screamed, his voice cracking into silence, eyes clenched shut.
The black skies over Driftwood flashed violet and blue, as thunder crept overhead, rolling through the mounting storm clouds.
Jonathan screamed again, pulling his hands from the gurney and buried his face into them. He sobbed, the familiar scent of Nadjia's perfume suddenly overpowering in his nose; he felt her near him, her hand on his shoulder. It only lasted a moment, and she was gone.
He pulled himself half onto the gurney and as he did once a long time ago, he wept on her shoulder.
Police began securing the scene once more.
Nida edged up beside him. She embraced him and Jonathan fell into her arms, bawling like a lost child.
Amir stood next to his arresting officer, loosed from his handcuffs. He watched his wife embracing the boy who would be his son, and felt the taste of rage like the sky's electricity in his mouth.
He turned away from Jonathan and Nida, glaring at Clayton Walker. The expression on his face was clear.
This is your fault.