[interlude] if she asks about me, tell her I'm not dead yet

[phantomrider]

The engine cuts off in the driveway of a small house painted a pastel blue, with lilies and nopal growing up against a little garden fence. It hasn't changed a bit in all these years, and certainly it hasn't in just the last few months since Johnnie's death.

Johnnie hops out of the passenger seat and drops his cigarette onto the driveway, snuffing it out with his foot, while Alex slips past the steering wheel and goes on ahead. Dale lingers at his little brother's side until he's done procrastinating by fussing over the cigarette, and together they make their way forward, though Johnnie falls a half-step behind. There's barely time for Alex to ring the doorbell before their mother makes it to the door - for they had called ahead, and she has quite obviously been waiting. Between the two taller boys standing there, she spots the third who lingers just behind them, scarred and to her eyes just a touch insubstantial around the edges. She rushes forward to take him in her arms like he might vanish entirely if she isn't quick enough.

"Johnnie! Oh, my boy."

Whatever reluctance about this meeting he had had vanishes as he melts into her hold, sagging against her like he's lost the air keeping him afloat. "Mama. ...I'm sorry."

"C'mon." Alex says gently as he taps him on the back, then ushers them both inside. No need to make this a public display. Dale is already looking out, eyes on the street. But it's a quiet weekday afternoon, and the immediate neighbors already know not to ask questions, not to say anything at all, if they're even home.

Their mother is crying by the time they're inside, and goddamn it, tears start to gather around the corners of Johnnie's eyes, too, until they come spilling down his cheeks. He tunes out the sound of his brothers fumbling around in the kitchen, and breathes in her comforting, familiar scent.

"My little boy. When they told me you were here, I didn't know how I was supposed to believe that. We lost you. I... I was going to plant flores de cempasúchil this year."

"Shit... Mama, no, it's okay. I'm right here. I wasn't gonna stay gone, I couldn't," he manages through the tears that suddenly come all over again, right when he thought he'd beaten them back. He's never been a crier, but what else is he supposed to do? He can't help it, not when she's crying. He gives a choked little sigh and wipes at his face with his hand, and she rubs his back in little circles like she used to do when he was small, then pulls back with tears streaming down her cheeks so she can have a proper look at him.

She fixes her eyes on that new scar with its tortured edges, and traces her fingertips along the rough surface, but then she smiles a watery smile. "You still look like you. Alive. I don't understand it."

"I know, Mama. I dunno how to explain it, but I can try. C'mere, let's sit down," he says, trying to swallow back the sniffles as he guides her to the living room so they can sit comfortably on the old worn sofa. He needs a moment to take a breath, to rub the tears from his eyes, while she waits for him to speak, arms still around him and afraid to let go. She still looks the same too, of course, wearing that favored burnt orange sweater, hair tied back in a short braid threatening to spill its sleek black strands in all directions at any moment. The only real difference is that right now, she looks so tired.

"I dunno what I am now," he starts. "I dunno who's gonna see me an' who never does. I can still drink an' eat if I want but I dunno if I gotta. I can touch people who see me, can't always touch the ones who don't. It's like I'm halfway between here an' somewhere out there."

He can't tell her the things he's seen out in the void. He and his brothers stopped trying long ago to convince her that there's nothing out there that cares in the way she thinks something must; he can't possibly explain to her now that he knows that endless darkness personally and that it is nothing, wants nothing, and yet is bound to turn everything to dust no matter what any of them do.

She listens to his attempt at describing himself, then shushes him and pulls him in for another hug. "I only care that you're here for us. I love you so much, little one, I couldn't bear the thought of losing you," she murmurs as she kisses his hair.

Alex comes to sit down, carrying two cups of coffee, and Dale has two more. All four are placed on coasters on the old coffee table with its stack of newspapers and gardening magazines underneath. They say nothing, letting their little brother and their mother talk things out, and Johnnie feels more than ever just how much work they put in to support their little family in all things - in money, in safety, but also in love and care, even if they don't always show it in the most obvious of ways. He swallows, throat dry, then pulls away from his mother and reaches for his cup to have a slow sip. She does much the same.

"He has a girlfriend now," Alex mentions over the rim of his cup, eyes betraying his amusement at getting to break that news.

"What?" Their mother gasps, clearly equal parts delighted and yet confused as to how a son who died but isn't quite dead could have a girlfriend.

Johnnie breaks out in much-needed laughter, and flings a pillow off the couch at Alex, only for him to slap it away one-handed while carefully lifting his coffee in the opposite direction.

"Hey, watch it, you're gonna spill it."

"You- Shut up, Alex!" Johnnie retorts poorly, then has a bigger drink before setting his cup down on a coaster. "Yeah, I met a girl who's like me. Died, but ain't dead dead, she came back. She's sweet, you'll like her. Her name's Chrissy."

"I'll like her? When do I meet her? You should have her over here for dinner sometime, mijo, I assume you both still eat!" she replies quickly, absolutely beaming. "What does she like? How did you meet?"

"Well, uh..." Johnnie starts, as he tries to work out how to describe abducting a dead high school cheerleader from the midwest and razing part of her town in the process without saying it like that. "I dunno, we started talkin' an' just hit it off. I didn't know she was like me at first but that kinda sealed the deal when I found out. Don't run into too many ghosts, after all. But, I mean, it ain't like we're only together because of that, it's just the icing on the cake. Anyway, uh, I'll see when she's free? Might be a bit, she's pretty busy."

It's a bullshit lame excuse and Johnnie knows it, but she'll have to be satisfied for now even if it sounds like he's blowing her off. They're all busy, and maybe she'll take it as him dodging the fact he has his own responsibilities, too, of the sort they don't discuss. It's always a delicate sort of conversational dance they have to do. Their mother, for all that they love her and she loves them, is certainly not happy about the lives they lead, and Johnnie's death makes that spot even more sore. Coming back only to be stuck somewhere between life and death is not going to make her feel all that much better once she's had time to mull it over and fit it in with the things she believes. And they definitely can't tell her what they've been up to lately, with Dale managing Chrissy's operation to bait Zazo while Alex arms and trains the gang for all-out war on a scale they haven't seen since the Ender's original spree. So it's a strange, cautious thing where all four of them are aware of the gaps being passed over in favor of discussing lighter things - the Phantom Riders getting back into action soon with a new drummer, mama's latest work with her clients to produce beautiful things for people to wear to their parties.

"Sounds like you've had good business, then," Dale points out warmly. They all remember when times were much harder, but she seems to have carved out a niche for herself here after years of hard work. It's not always nough to fully cover the bills, but it's close enough most months, finally. The rest is covered by her sons, and she doesn't ask where the money comes from, but Johnnie figures she knows enough to guess at the answers.

"Yes, but it comes and goes. More lately, with summer on its way. I have enough to keep me busy through July. I don't suppose you and your friends need new outfits for your band this fall, do you?"

Dale laughs, and shrugs. "We'll see how things go, but I'll let you know if we do. I'm really hopin' this year we hit it big but it all depends on this new drummer an' how summer gigs play out. Now, if you hear of someone who needs a rock band and pays good money..."

She smiles and shrugs. "I can always ask around. But you know how most people here are. The ones with money to hire musicians for parties, they want mariachis, not rock and roll, not yelling into microphones about darkness and the end of the world."

The way she says it is so... simple, so motherly, Johnnie cracks up again as he slouches into the couch. "Well, that's a damn shame, they're missin' out."

The smile she wears is that same small, puzzled thing when she just can't understand why the three of them are the way they are despite her best efforts. Maybe she blames their father's absence for how they turned out, though. Johnnie hopes she doesn't blame herself. Really, she shouldn't blame anyone or anything. There's no fault to assign for them living a life they chose themselves, or for understanding that the universe, beautiful and horrible and unknowably vast, doesn't have anything in it that gives a fuck about the things that go on inside it any more than he gives a fuck about the bugs that live under the pavement he rides on.

Alex drains the last of his coffee and toys with the mug, spinning it in his hands. "You still need me to look at your car, mama?"

"Oh! Heavens, I almost forgot. Would you, please? It drives but that horrible sound is getting worse, I swear."

They wind up spending a few hours there. Alex fiddles with the car, getting his hands greasy, while Dale and Johnnie find other ways to help around the house and yard, at least until their mother pulls Johnnie aside, looking solemn once again. He knits his brows.

"Yeah?" he asks, tentative.

She takes a breath before she starts. "They showed me where you were found, mijito. I don't know if they told you about that."

"Fuck," he hisses under his breath as he glances toward where he last saw Dale. "No, they didn't tell me. Fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't know they'd even found it." But his brothers are cautious and protective, and didn't want to hurt him more than he already had been, that's probably what that's about. They showed her, because she deserved to know, but why tell him? He was there, and these days he remembers it all more sharply than he'd like.

She rests a hand on his arm, then brushes her fingers along his scarred cheek again. "I know how you boys do things, even when you don't tell me. Don't make things worse. Let this one go. Whoever hurt you, it can end without more violence. I'm just glad to have you back here. Let that be enough."

There's a firmness to that that doesn't sound like pleading. She doesn't beg when she asks them to do things, because even if she has little say over the choices they make, she's their mother and she remembers what each of them was like when they barely came up to her knee.

Johnne rests a hand on hers, then slowly pulls her wrist downward, away from his face. "No. It won't be enough. You said it yourself, you know what we get up to. An' this time it's for the best. That asshole responsible can't get away with this, it's gonna hurt everyone if he keeps goin'. Everyone, I mean that. Not just me an' you an' my brothers. There's a lot he's gotta answer for. It ain't just revenge this time. We're keepin' this city safe."

He's firm as he says it, and yet he knows he can't make her agree. Maybe in time she'll see, once it hits the papers - Zazo dead, his whole stock on fire once they catch up to the warehouses where it's all stashed, overturn every truck that comes and goes from the port full of that vile black shit. The papers will tell the city how the World Enders destroyed every scrap of vide noir, and rid the city of its horrors, and then they'll know for sure whose side they ought to be on.

She can't see it now, but she does let go and step away.

Lunch is a filling portion of fresh tortillas and a spicy tomato-rich chicken soup, the scent of it simmering on the stove having driven Johnnie crazy for the last half hour.

But once it's all scooped down and cleaned up after, Dale glances at the clock on the wall and Alex catches that look and nods. "Oughta get going, mama."

She nods, understanding. Their visits are never longer, and while once she might have asked them to stay, she has long since given that up. They never do. They have lives to get back to, and trying to hold any of the three of them up is like trying to keep a wildfire contained in her own home. She dries her hands off on a dishtowel, and while she looks to the three of them, it's Johnnie she first reaches for to hug him close and keep him a moment longer. She settles her hands on his shoulders before he can squirm away, and fixes him with a smile that's still somewhere between relieved and so, so sad.

"I'm so glad you're here. You take good care of your brothers now, okay?"

She kisses the side of his head, and he laughs and squeezes her tight, choosing to ignore the note of sorrow behind that request. He hates it, the knowledge that of all the things he's done that have made her suffer, this was the worst - that even being back isn't the same to her as him never having died at all. That they're set on pursuing justice for him, and that she's going to worry every day about the fate of her sons.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll look after 'em, make sure they don't do shit dumber than what I'd do," he jokes, and even if it's not the most honestly reassuring thing to say, she does laugh a little and finally lets him go. They say their goodbyes, all promising not to let things go too long before they can visit again, and Johnnie trots on outside, hands in his pockets as he looks over the little garden on the street. There, he can see the feathered leaves of the marigolds pushing their way through the soil, and shakes his head as he lights himself another cigarette.

Dale gives him a teasing smack upside the head as he heads toward the car, making Johnnie cough on the smoke he's just inhaled in surprise, and then with a grin on his face he strides on over to reclaim his seat. Time to get back to work.