Fear Itself

When we crossed through the canal tunnels into the metro, I immediately picked my pace, clutching tight to the straps of my backpack, darting forward, away from Avery, toward the entrance to the tunnels, all the while shouting, “Alex! Alex!” I was hoping for a response, but I didn’t get one, so I just continued rushing around, calling for him, not paying much attention when I backed into someone by mistake. I gasped and turned, but to my delight, it was just who I was looking for. “Alex!” I exclaimed, grinning.

“Hm, morning, Tali,” he chuckled sleepily, standing outside the door to Sam’s office, which was left just cracked enough for me to see Sam sitting at his desk, typing away on his laptop. “You seem… chipper.”

“Always! Always am in the morning,” I laughed. He rubbed his eyes and tried to smile, but he just looked tired more than anything.

“Well, that’s… fantastic,” he laughed through a yawn. He ran a hand through his messy hair.

“Late night?” I asked. Judging by the bags under his eyes and his sleepy demeanor, he didn’t really need to answer it, but people made small talk. It was considered polite, I learned.

“Yeah,” Alex told me. “It’s always a late night with Sam. He’s a workaholic.” He stretched a little, rolling his shoulder back. His teal and black gingham flannel was wrinkled, and a couple buttons had popped out and come undone. “Up all day and night with his plans that Dean’s not going to follow anyway.”

“Heard that,” Sam muttered from inside, but his eyes never left the computer screen.

“Bug off, wanker,” Alex retorted with a grin, finally shutting the door behind him a thud. “So yeah,” he continued. “Very, very late night. I’m probably running off about…” He paused, blinking, bewildered, to stare down at his watch. He squinted his eyes, scratched his head. “Wow. Two hours of sleep.” He heaved an exasperated sigh.

I laughed under my breath. “It can be hard to sleep down here. The mattresses are just dreadful,” I commented, nodding. “I rarely get a full night of sleep myself if I stay down here.”

“Well, they’re not much better than one in my place,” Alex told me with a gentle smile, closing his eyes for a moment, probably trying to blink off the sleep.

“Oh, you don’t live down here?” I asked.

“Nah,” he replied, shaking his head. “My flat may as well be a cardboard box, but no, I don’t live down here.”

“Hm,” I hummed, nodding. “Anyway—“ I slipped the backpack off my shoulders and took it by the cloth handle at the top. I unzipped it. “I’ve got something for you.”

“Oh, really?” he grinned. “And what would that be?”

I pulled the musty old Bible from my bag and handed it to him. “As promised,” I giggled, overcome with a warm feeling when I saw the pleasantly surprised smile appear on Alex’s face.

“Wow,” he murmured in utter awe as he took the thing from my hands. His hand brushed against the cover, feeling out every little detail. “Wow, this is just fantastic, Tali,” Alex said, his brown eyes lifting. I grinned; I felt so giddy. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome,” I replied genuinely, watching with amusement as he started to examine the spine.

“No, really,” he continued. “I don’t think you understand how amazing this is. This book is a treasure, Tali. You can’t find these anymore. I mean, I know it’s considered mythology anymore, I just…” He paused and took a deep breath, face filled with joy. “This thing is just rife with historical information, not to mention the overwhelming influence it had on human psychology in the last couple of centuries, I just—wow.” I laughed, watching as he hurriedly opened the book, flipping through the pages, just to scan, very much like I did. He flipped through to the very first page. Alex’s eyes fell upon the inside cover and widened.

“I know. Lawrence Jameson,” I said. “Guess it wasn’t my mother’s, after all. I’ve got no clue who Lawrence is though. I don’t know if she ever knew one.”

“No,” Alex retorted quietly, shaking his head. “She did. She definitely did.” Before I could reply, Alex’s head started turning wildly. “Dean!” he called out, suddenly knocking on the office door again. “Dean, you have to come look at this straight away!” He didn’t stop knocking until Dean opened the door, looking utterly exhausted, same as Alex had when I first saw him.

“Did you shave off one of your eyebrows?” he wearied, yawning.

“No, better,” Alex insisted, shoving the Bible toward Dean. “Property of Lawrence Jameson.”

Dean’s eyes got so wide I thought maybe they’d fall out and roll across the floor. “What?” he inquired, totally caught off-guard before he snatched the Bible right out of Alex’s hands. “No way,” he muttered, throwing a hand over his mouth. “This is…” He opened the front cover and looked the handwriting. “Sam, this is Lawrence’s Bible,” he hurriedly informed his brother.

“What?” Sam asked with a moment of delay, clearly not having paid attention.

“This Uncle Lawrence’s Bible, Sam!” Dean gushed with more enthusiasm than I had ever seen. Sam rose from his chair to come inspect the book as well.

“I’ll be damned,” Sam muttered as his eyes fell upon the faded ink. “Tali, where’d you find this?”

“A box my mum’s things,” I explained. “Locked up in the attic.”

“He must have given it to her,” Dean deduced quietly. He closed it with care and handed it back to Alex. “Eyebrows, be careful with this. I want that when you’re done.” He began to walk by, but he stopped and looked at me. “Thanks for finding that, Blondie,” Dean said, rather sincerely. I often wasn’t used to hearing such in his voice. “Meant to ask how you’re holding up.”

“I’m alright,” I told him with a shrug. “Saw Chandler at the park this morning.”

“Chandler’s awake right now?” Dean asked me in disbelief, pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. “It’s only 8. He’s usually just waking up. What the hell was he up to?”

“I saw him in the gardens when Mumbles and I crossed through the woods,” I explained. “He was with a rather strapping young man and one of the cutest little girl’s I’d ever seen… um… the man was named… Gabe Morbey, and the little girl was Eden, he said.”

Dean did a double-take. “With a guy? Chandler was with… a guy… after two o’clock in the morning…” he muttered to himself, voice falling to inaudible levels before his eyes widened with epiphany. “Holy shit,” Dean gasped. “Sorry to cut you off, Blondie. I’ve got a bone to pick him. I’ll catch you later.” He rushed out of the base faster than I’d ever seen him leave before. I turned back, and Alex was flipping through the Bible, smiling fondly.

“I think you’ve really outdone yourself,” he chuckled. “Not only have you brought us one of the most illegal books in existence, you’ve also dug up a Cassidy family heirloom.” Alex paused, closing the book and looking back to me. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’d really like to read this, so…”

I nodded, shooting him an understanding smile. “Not rude at all,” I reassured him. “Go ahead. I understand.”

He stepped forward and put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing. “Thanks,” Alex told me again, looking me right in the eyes. I felt my breath hitch, and we both quickly averted our gazes. Alex’s hand shot back to his side, and he offered a small, surreptitious smile before he headed off toward the hall and disappeared behind one of the large, metal doors. My eyes floated up to the one person left: Sam. His eyes immediately widened with alarm. I knew he didn’t want to talk; he never did, but I had soon grown to realize that Sam simply couldn’t resist a simple pair of batting eyelashes or a pouting lip.

“So, Sam,” I began, sauntering toward him with a pleading smile growing on my face. “Mind giving me a history lesson…? Maybe just tell me why Dean just got so excited?”

Sam tried to look away, tried to find it within himself to shut the door on me, but he just sighed and dropped his head. “Come in,” he told me. “I know you will anyway.”

He closed the door behind me while I took my usual seat on his bed, smiling, tucking my knees tight against my chest and waiting for story time. “What’s the deal with Lawrence?” I inquired, hoping Sam would just take the question and ramble off like he usually did. I loved it when he rambled. He told me so much in a such short time. It could be an awful lot to process, but I felt so enriched by the end.

“Lawrence was one of my dad’s best mates. They went to school together after Lawrence’s family moved here from Ireland,” Sam explained. “They were close, incredibly close. So much so that Dean was named after him. Well, middle-named anyway.”

Interesting, I thought. “And he knew my mum?” I prodded, looking for more answers.

“That’s um… that’s what’s interesting Tali,” he stammered. “You must not have known, but our parents were very good friends. I suppose it makes sense that your father would keep that from you though,” he trailed off, mumbling. “Anyway, my dad met your mum at university—“

“Your dad could attend uni?”

“No,” Sam told me. “He just had a habit of breaking into classes and hoping nobody noticed he didn’t belong there.” I laughed. Sam chuckled under his breath. “He was quite a character. He was a good man—a great man, in fact. He was always telling Dean and I to learn more, read more, learn as much as we could… He always said the blindest man was the one who didn’t care to fill himself with knowledge. I’ve lived my whole life by that standard. Dean, on the other hand… has not.”

“Dean doesn’t like your dad much, does he?” I asked, merely making an observation.

“Not a bit,” Sam sighed. “In retaliation, Dean off and joined the militia. He never… never flat out said it, but everyone knew. He was spiteful, knew that Dad wouldn’t have liked it. I didn’t like it, that’s for sure. We fought long and hard over his enlistment, and we didn’t speak when he was shipped off to Moscow… didn’t speak for five years. Not until I decided to form the Brotherhood. I don’t know what gears were turning in his head, but he told me he’d help. I always thought he was content sitting cozy with Conor Kennedy at luncheons… guess I was wrong.”

I could see the regret in Sam’s eyes, hear the sorrow in his voice, so I quickly changed the subject. “Our parents met at uni, right?” I continued. “But what happened if he couldn’t be there?”

“Well, they had a brief conversation before he was chased out by security. He handed her a copy of 1984 by George Orwell. It was his prized possession, called it a ‘life-changer.’ I’m pretty sure he read Dean and me to sleep with that thing. Apparently, your mum was so shocked by it, she had to come find my dad. She found Lawrence instead. He shot a guy right in front of her, you know, probably saved her life.” Sam smiled fondly. “She was over a lot. Don’t think my mum liked that very much, but a lot of it was business. Our parents only knew each other for a few months before they decided to form the Freedom Fighters,” he explained. “They had plans to change the world, but…” He fell silent. “Didn’t really go that way, I suppose.”

I furrowed my brows. “What do you mean… didn’t go that way?” I waited for him to answer, but he didn’t. “Sam, did something happen?”

“It was dreadful, Tali.” His voice shook. “Absolutely… dreadful. They got caught, you know. To this day, nobody knows how, nobody… nobody cares how, especially not the mindless citizens of this earth. They just care that the League ‘stamped out terrorism.’ They don’t care that it ripped families apart… left you without a mother. Left Dean and me without a father.” He paused and swallowed. “They were good people. They were good, honest people with good intentions and dreams for a better world, and they were… they’re gone.”

“What happened to your dad, Sam?” I implored, suddenly feeling uneasiness rising in my throat.

“Nobody quite knows,” he confessed in a half-hearted chuckle. “At least… they know about everyone else. They found Lawrence dead in his kitchen—suicide. Militia found him after they broke the door down. My dad… he skipped town. Don’t know when… don’t know why… nobody’s seen him in eighteen years though. Some say he skipped town after your mum’s execution—“

“What?” I blurted out. “Execution? What do you mean… execution? My father said that… he said…” I stammered, stumbled over my words. I couldn’t find what I wanted to say. My father lied to me. This was the second thing he had lied to me about… first I had ‘died,’ and now, my mother was actually executed, not killed by criminals in West London. I found myself speechless.

“Yeah,” Sam affirmed, turning to look me. He was perplexed. “You… didn’t you know? She was the only one to be executed… the only one to face her death.” My face was sinking with every word, until he added, “She meant a lot to so many people, Tali. Many say she was the bravest of them all.”

I liked that. She was brave. She was smart. She was beautiful. It was an image of my mother that I rather liked. She stood for something, and she wanted to do something with her life, not just go on TV and ask questions like my father said. She was a woman of substance. She had grace, but she also had spine. She was courageous, and she faced her death with dignity. Everyone always said that I was so much like her. Now, I truly knew that it was a compliment, even if I was currently wondering if I would ever do this great woman justice.

I giggled quietly. “Do you know anymore stories about them, Sam?” I begged, biting my lower lip.

“Certainly do,” he responded, tapping his foot on the ground a little. “Want to hear them?” I gave him an eager nod, and off he went. I sat there for hours, listening to Sam tell the most fantastic stories about our parents and all of the crazy things they’d gotten themselves into, like my mother’s penchant for sarcasm, and his father’s habit for getting them all into insane kinds of danger because of his curiosity. It gave me a sense of semblance, and for once, my brain wasn’t racing and pressing and fighting me to gather more information. I didn’t have many questions when I listened to Sam because for once, I felt like I knew my mother.