TONY HAD BEEN TASKED TO TAKE REMY TO HIS NEW THERAPIST, AND HE WAS NOT READY TO ENTER AN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL. He sighed as he pulled up into the parking lot of the school, maneuvering around the running children and chatting parents and distracted cross-walk attendees. It was a kind of madness that had him ready to run for the hills, if not for the fear of repercussions from Birdie who had practically screamed at him over the phone, five minutes before having to go back into the courtroom and convince the jury that societal double standards did not hold when it came to actual law, morals, and human beings, none of which Tony wanted to ever get into.
Thus, that was why he was climbing out of his car at the end of school and making his way through, his hood pulled up and sunglasses on. From what he had heard, people had started to let up about Remy being affiliated with Tony, and his mother about her behavior with the reporter, and he liked to keep the thorny limelight away from the family as much as possible.
As he made his way towards the blacktop, not wanting to go into the building lest he run into a teacher or adult who looked at him too closely, he tried to find Remy through the sea of running children, only to turn up empty.
He did, however, see Ethan who was glaring at him from where he was leaning against the chainlink fence. Despite the clear hostility, he was the only person there that Tony recognized, not to mention the only person who would possibly know where Remy was.
So he made his way over, despite his better judgement, and found that the boy was just as intimidating as his mother; the mother related to Birdie, not the mother who was sweet enough to knit Tony a sweater for Christmas.
"Where's Remy?" he asked, leaning against the fence, and Ethan's glare seemed to intensify.
"Since when are you back?" the boy practically spat, and Tony had to admit, it made sense.
"About a week and a half ago," he replied, and that seemed to upset Ethan more, maybe because of his tone, maybe because of the context, maybe because he was just too upset.
"Why'd you have to come back?" the boy demanded, "It's bad enough you left, but it's even worse that you came back."
Tony raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
Ethan grit his teeth. "Because now you've got their hopes up again. Then you'll leave and it'll be even worse."
Tony shook his head, turning to look at the scene in front of him. Children running around, parents chatting, middle schoolers sighing and trying to tug their parents away or force them to leave. All around him a kind of noise that he had never been a part of and, in all honesty, could never truly see himself being a part of.
"I won't leave," he said, and Ethan scoffed, shaking his head. "I won't," he pressed, "Look, I left the first time, that was on me, but I won't leave again. I promise."
Ethan pursed his lips and stepped forward, glaring up at Tony. "I don't care how much money you have, man. You hurt either of them and I will take you down."
With that, the boy stalked off and before Tony could even think of calling him back, a small hand was slipped into his own and he was being tugged off, his ears filled with the constant stream of chatter he had been so used to hearing.
"You excited?" he asked as the boy vaulted into the front seat of the car, Tony once again choosing not to comment against it.
"No," the boy replied, "I hope she's better than Nicky, but I doubt it. I hear psychologists are better than therapists."
"Where's all this bias coming from?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow as he pulled out of the parking lot and towards the road.
Remy didn't respond, instead he just looked out the window, the wind pushing back his hair. Tony decided not to pry, since that always left the boy in a sour mood and unwilling to cooperate with anything.
This therapist was in for a surprise.
º º º
"—Your Honor, I would like to cross-examine the witness now, while the jury is still—"
"That is enough for today, Ms. Walsh, we will resume tomorrow morning at nine a.m."
Birdie grit her teeth as she nodded, packing up her things with an angry flourish that let everyone know she was not in any mood for polite chit chat. After the defendant had decided to throw an entire curveball, claiming to need to tell the whole truth when in reality was simply telling more lies to ensure reasonable doubt, it was clear that she was going to have a very long night ahead of her.
"What was that?" Captain Stacy hissed, coming to walk beside her as they exited the courtroom.
"This is why you go to the D.A. and not to me," she sighed, shaking her head, but the man lightly grabbed her arm, stopping her.
"You've handled cases just like this, Elizabeth, I trust you," the man said, because he always cared for formalities and never thought himself close enough to call her by her nickname, "Just tell me what you need and we can figure this out."
She sighed, shaking her head. "Captain Stacy, all I know is this woman is a pathological liar and borderline narcissist. She's willing to destroy her own daughter if it means she'll always be seen as the hero. Even if she's a martyr in the process."
Captain Stacy ran a hand through his hair, and it was then that Birdie remembered that he was younger than her, with a daughter of his own by the name of Gwen. She had met the girl on occasion and she had always been a mature, genius soul, but with enough aptitude in social occasions that she might as well have been the mayor.
"Didn't we talk about having a psychological evaluation?" the man asked, "Have you talked to the judge about it?"
"Yes, and I was denied," Birdie sighed, "There wasn't enough reason, and it would be more prejudicial than probative, according to the defense. I'll figure something out."
"I trust that you will," the man sighed, "But don't you have a son to get to?"
"Don't you have a daughter?" she countered, and he ducked his head, clearly embarrassed, "Captain Stacy, if you can balance your home life and your demanding job, then so can I. I will figure something out."
With that, she walked out of the courthouse without him, heels clicking against the steps, and she pushed through all the reporters demanding for a statement, but she avoided them, having nothing to tell after what she had said earlier than morning. Some told her that it wasn't smart to ignore the press, but there were times when silence needed to speak for itself.
Though she had come to realize that silence could also do her much more harm than good.
º º º
"I could pay them off."
Birdie scoffed and rolled her eyes as she ranted to Tony, her head in his lap and legs stretched out along the couch, her agitation and stress manifesting itself into a kind of desperate indifference as she tried to relax, loose and uncaring, yet all consumed by her strategy for the next day.
"That's illegal," she pointed out, "But I appreciate that. I just...this woman is honestly despicable. She accused her daughter of—God, it's just sick. I would say I want her put away, but more than anything, I want her to get some help."
"Speaking of help," Tony began, "Did the kid tell you about how his consultation went today?"
She sighed. "Yes, he did. I also received a phone call. Turns out even therapists have limits, though I'm guessing getting a shoe thrown at your head is easily a limit for most people. I didn't realize he was so angry."
"It's a control thing, he told me," Tony said, "She kept putting words into his mouth and was coming off more hostile than he imagined? When she just didn't stop talking, he threw the shoe to get her to stop. Smart kid, knows what he wants."
Birdie frowned. "What kind of a therapist does that?"
Tony shrugged. "He did say psychologists were better."
"How does that work?" she asked, "I think it's more about the person than what they do for a living."
"Tell him that," the man said, and she snorted; there wasn't much someone could do if a person was set on what they believed.
She gasped, bolting upright, her mind moving faster than the oxygen that was keeping her alive. "I know what to do."
Tony watched with an fond smile as Birdie grabbed her laptop and began to type, calling Captain Stacy, apologizing for calling his home, and so late, quickly explaining her idea in a way that Tony didn't even try to catch up with—he could have understood if he wanted to, but he preferred to just watch her—hanging up a few moments later and finishing, sighing once she finished.
"That was an interesting twenty minutes," Tony commented, laughing as Birdie practically sagged against the cushions, finally breathing after all that time.
She yawned, shifting so her head was back in his lip, eyes falling closed. "God, I'm so tired."
Rolling his eyes fondly, Tony shift, hooking one arm under behind her knees with the other keeping her back steady, lifting her up despite her protests. She didn't protest much, however, considering she had barely slept the past few days, simply mumbling her disapproval of his actions while tucking her face into the crook of his neck.
"I should be getting back," he sighed, dropping her onto the bed, letting her arrange her blankets for herself, "Good luck tomorrow."
Just as he was about to exit the room, Birdie spoke up, despite her fears, despite having the sinking feeling that, if she asked, he might leave again. But she was tired, it was late, and she hated how big her bed was.
"Can you stay with me?" she asked, and she hated how he froze, "If you don't want to, don't, but if you do...please?"
She worried on her bottom lip, watching as Tony faced the door for a moment, before turning around to look at her, just staring for a moment, and she couldn't help but look down, fisting her blankets in her hands, wishing she hadn't asked.
But then Tony was rummaging through her drawers for the clothes Mark had left that she never wore, but always kept, tugging them on before climbing into the space of the bed that she still left empty, even though she was sure no one was ever going to fill it again.
Lying down, she turned to face him, though she didn't quite look at him, trying to tamp down her smile and her heart which soared at the thought of someone actually wanting to be around her, someone that didn't want anything from her.
Carefully, Tony reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, but he waited until she nodded before pulling her close, holding her tight, and his shirt smelled of Mark, but everything else was just Tony.
"I won't leave again."
º º º
Tony was driving Remy to school when the boy finally spoke.
"Did you have sex with my mom?"
Tony very well near crashed the car, swerving into the other lane before coming back, nearly hitting the sidewalk in the process, his palms sweating and his heart racing, Remy shouting at him.
"No!" he cried, "I did not sleep with your mom, and we will not tell her about this conversation."
"Well, duh," Remy drawled, rolling his eyes, "Calm down, it was just a question, a lot of people have sex, it's not that big of a deal, Tony. But you did sleep with her."
Tony blinked. "No. I just said that I didn't."
"No, but you meant sex," Remy corrected, "I'm saying that you actually slept. You didn't just stare at her the whole night. You better not have, that's creepy."
Tony couldn't help but laugh then, shaking his head. "No, I didn't just stare at her."
He had, in fact, slept. He had slept very well that night, actually, which was a huge surprise as he hadn't gotten much sleep the past weeks, especially during those three weeks away. It was just like the first time it had happened, the fact he wasn't alone had calmed him enough to sleep easy, and it was solidified when he woke up to find Birdie still there.
"Whatever you did, just...don't hurt my mom," Remy said, hopping out of the car and grabbing his backpack, "I'll see you later, right?"
Tony reached over, forcing the boy to look him in the eye. "Hey. Look at me."
Remy sighed and lifted his head, forcing himself to keep his gaze. "What?"
"I'm not leaving you or your mom again, okay? I promise."
Despite what he said, despite what he meant, despite Remy nodding his head and agreeing and Birdie falling asleep within moments of Tony saying those words, the two still couldn't believe him.
It was just too good to be true.
AUTHOR'S NOTE
This was honestly a filler chapter, but I found importance with it, so it's here. I decided to show a bit more of Birdie working, so that's fun, but we did end up mainly following Tony. You see, there's still that kind of a rift, but next chapter is when we start the last subplot.
So yeah! Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed!