Rematch by Penny Lane
Summary:

They take time for a game on the edge of a strange day.


Categories: Holidays > Thanksgiving Characters: Mary Bailey, Skylar Stevens
Episode/Spoilers For: None
Genres: Drama
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 4229 Read: 12263 Published: 27 Nov 2015 Updated: 27 Nov 2015
Story Notes:

DISCLAIMER: The name "Jericho" and all character names and trademarks associated with the television program are the intellectual property of Junction Entertainment, Fixed Mark Productions, CBS Paramount Television and/or CBS Studios, Inc. The following story is a work of fan fiction intended solely as an intellectual exercise without profit motive. No infringement of copyright is intended or should be implied.

 

Special Thanks to Marzee Doats for all your encouragement!

1. Rematch by Penny Lane

Rematch by Penny Lane

 

 

 

 

“Home again, huh?”

Skylar smiled as she nodded her head at Art and Lucy, who were passing by the store on one of their walks. Having come to town months ago with the other refugees, they were friends with most of the crew. It was pretty cheesy how often they walked around holding hands in public, but somehow whenever she saw them she felt a strange mixed feeling that was difficult to place. She'd smile like a big dork, but after they were gone she'd feel a nagging sadness. Dale, who was climbing out the other side of the truck, also returned the couple's greeting, stepping over to chat with them for a few minutes about the ongoing harvest, whether anyone had managed to fix the leaking school roof, and the celebration the crew was having later out at the farm. She climbed down from the truck and glanced up Main Street. It had only been days really, but it was always reassuring to find things mostly unscathed.

She had felt a giddiness in her stomach that wasn't completely excitement when they'd first driven past the town sign, but a relief as well. Much as she wrinkled her nose, she'd thought it herself. Home. It had different parameters than this time last year and a more definite, but costly, relief. She waved as the couple continued on their way. “Do you think they're engaged yet?” Dale whispered as he stepped close to her. “You know, secretly. Maybe saving the announcement for later today?”

She stared after them. They walked closely, arm in arm, but not in an especially different manner than the last time she'd seen them. The old markers – rings, paper and email tidings – were gone of course, and subtle tells had to substitute. She shook her head. “Nah. Jimmy's going to lose that bet.”

They laughed to themselves and turned towards the store. Her thoughts stayed for a few moments on the retreating couple and how, engaged or not, they seemed so peaceful, but she noticed his hesitation. He stared at the store, bracing himself even more than usual. She took a breath, remembering quickly, and put a hand on his shoulder.

 

 

 

Mary was sitting in a booth by the window, staring out. That's where they'd stood, last year. The lights had come on and they'd all stepped out of shadows, breathing easily. Thinking they had a new chance, still hoping they could go back. There was no use blaming past selves for not knowing how many horrible nights would come and go between then and now. Good days and nights had flitted by too of course, and those were what she'd hold onto later today, with the rest of them, facing all that they had and looking bravely forwards. It would be hardest for so many of them, missing the ones they'd lost between that silly, hopeful night and now. Of course they'd all lost. But her losses were less solid and more unspoken, not as immediate as a real live father, daughter, or sister.

She glanced down at the table, taking a breath and letting the unease flood through her mind for just a moment. It seemed necessary sometimes, when faced with the task of looking ahead. If you didn't acknowledge how fragile it all was, it was harder somehow. She felt herself at the edge of a precipice, like so many she'd stood over earlier this year and others bound to come into focus soon enough. Each time she found herself asking. How can you believe we'll be okay? It had worked, most of the time. Some days she'd managed to take a big leap – like the wedding several weeks ago. Some moments were very small, like the time a few months ago it had been a huge feat to get up in the morning and go outside. It felt more solid each time she had to grapple with her past and future selves and figure out how to go forward. But there was still an unnamed terror that she kept buried, far down, that she'd learned had to be wrestled every now and then, and better before, now, when no one else was looking. She wanted to jump with her eyes open.

She startled as she heard the sound of a truck on the street and stood quickly, running to the door.

 

 

 

This was where it had happened, last year.

Skylar found herself standing in the silence in this shop that felt so familiar most of the time, staring at the floor. No matter how much they buried it in their memories, it couldn't be erased could it?

She whipped her head around as she heard the sound of the front door. “Hey, Skylar?”

She let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding and tried to smile, stepping away from the shelves and into the light. “Hey, Mary.”

She could see the gauging look on Mary's face as she glanced around the room before flashing her a tentative smile. “Welcome home! We were starting to worry.”

Skylar nodded, hugging her arms around herself. “Thanks. We took longer than we expected, but we didn't want to cut corners with winter coming soon.”

Mary returned the nod. “Smart. You're okay, though?”

Skylar nodded again. At Mary's questioning look, she added, “He's checking in at the warehouse. I wanted to make sure things were okay here.” She felt a surge of discomfort and the next words slipped out before she considered them. “He didn't really want to come in here, today. Most of the time, I don't know if he thinks about it, but I guess with the holiday again and all.”

“Yeah,” said Mary. “It's going to be a hard one, isn't it?” She sent her a small smile, and as Skylar tried to find something else to say, Mary motioned to the shelves around the room. “Your crew's been working hard. Everyone's been out at the farm most days but Jane and Roland opened the store Monday and Tuesday. I checked in every day.”

“Thanks,” said Skylar. She surveyed the room for herself, though she'd taken into account the new barrels and stacks of food and supplies that had been arranged while she'd been gone. “So much stuff,” she said quietly, picking up a butternut squash and turning it over in her hands. Mary was still looking at her and she put the squash back down, feeling her cheeks flush. “When I go out there, I just think, we have so much. Even though all this,” she motioned around. “Last year I would've thought this was a pretty sad selection. I was still hoping for pop tarts and real coffee.” She cleared her throat. “So we got almost everything on the list. When Dale gets back with the truck we can unload your order.”

“Sure,” said Mary. “I do have to run back to the bar. I'm trying to cook stuffing so I shouldn't leave that stove alone any longer.”

Skylar nodded, smirking, and refrained from making a joke about another fire. “Thanks for checking in.”

“Of course,” said Mary. She stepped back towards the door, but turned, tilting her head. “You want to come? I could use a taste tester.” At Skylar's skeptical look, she smirked. “And we could have a rematch. Pass the time while you're waiting?”

Skylar took a breath, feeling some of the heaviness that had settled in her chest since stepping into the store dissipate slightly at the thought of a quick escape. “I guess,” she finally said.

She followed Mary out of the store, back into the crisp sunlight, and then into the darkness of the bar. It was empty and she could faintly smell the cooking spices as they approached the kitchen. “No one wants a drink today?” she asked.

“Not opening 'til later,” shrugged Mary. “People'll be by then, I'm sure. Eric's sleeping off a shift upstairs but the stove up there broke again. We're going to a Thanksgiving thing in an hour or two, but I'll open the bar when we get back.” She glanced up at Skylar. “You guys are having dinner out at the farm right?”

Skylar shook her head. “The crew is, but we're just going back to the house. Don't get much sleep on the road.”

“Understandable,” said Mary, pulling a dish out of the oven and assessing its contents. “I think it's ready to sample. What do you think?”

Skylar nodded and muttered her thanks as Mary passed her a bowl. The ghost of her past self, the one from a year ago that seemed to have sprung forth from her memory when she'd entered the store earlier, would ask if this was weird and wrinkle her nose. But even though she and Dale had certainly learned to take care of themselves in the intervening months, she seldom turned down food of any sort. There was an extra comfort in receiving food you could eat right away without having to worry about who was giving it to you or doubt its origins.

“It's good,” she said, swallowing her first bite and taking another.

Mary had served herself a smaller sample, Skylar assumed to be polite since she'd be eating it later with a group, and was now twirling her fork in it. “Yeah? That's good 'cause I haven't made this in a while and I don't have enough bread to make more. Stanley wanted to have stuffing in the bird but Gail is worried about people getting sick.”

Skylar hadn't realized how hungry she was. “I'm sure it'll be a hit,” she said quickly between bites.

“Thanks,” said Mary. “I was always in charge of the stuffing, when I used to have Thanksgiving with my dad. When it was just the two of us, we'd try to make a bunch of other things, and some of them screwed up pretty badly. But as long as we had stuffing, we were happy. Then I used to help with it, when we served dinner here. But when it was just me, I didn't do so much.”

Skylar eyed her, and Mary took a cautious bite. “What did you do when it was just you?” asked Skylar.

“Opened the bar, regular menu,” she answered with a shrug. “There was usually someone who wanted somewhere to be. Not too different now I guess.” She nodded towards Skylar's empty bowl. “You want some more?”

Skylar paused, assuming her practiced neutral face. It still made her uneasy, accepting too many things from them, especially without a price. Mary reached towards her bowl, eyebrows raised. Slowly Skylar nodded. “Thanks.” She accepted the bowl again with a nod. “My mom used to make a big production out of it. She'd get all these fancy ingredients ahead and look up recipes. We'd have other people over sometimes – my grandparents from Florida, or the Carmichaels.”

“Sounds nice,” said Mary.

Skylar nodded. “I never really...back then I didn't think a lot about it.”

“Do the Carmichaels ever –” Mary began her question, but Skylar shook her head. “You know,” she continued. “You'd be welcome to come join us. You and Dale. We're going out to Stanley and Mimi's.”

Skylar looked skeptical. Their alliance with some of the adults in town was a bit more settled but things were still somewhat uneasy between them and the last Richmond. “I don't want to interrupt anyone's family thing,” she said.

“It's not just a family thing,” said Mary, “Most of us are friends. Anyway, I understand if you're not up for it, just know if you'd like to come...”

“Thanks,” said Skylar quickly in a more business-like tone. She sighed, nodding over her now empty bowl, indicating her thanks was for more than the invitation and then glancing towards the door. “How about that rematch?”

“You're on,” said Mary, hastily stowing the casserole dish in the stove and following her into the front room.

Skylar quickly bypassed the corner with the dartboard. At Mary's questioning look, she smirked. “I get to pick the game this time, and you have home court advantage with darts.” She continued until she'd reached the pool table, picking up a cue stick and raising her eyebrows.

Mary grinned. “Don't I have home court advantage here too?”

Skylar just smirked again, racking up the coloured and striped balls. “You wanna break?”

“Be my guest.”

Skylar narrowed her focus and lined up her shot. The cue ball hit the others with a satisfying clink and they scattered in all directions. “Stripes, then,” she nodded, soon sinking a second and then stepping to the opposite side of the table to line up another shot.

“So you've got a home court too, huh?” asked Mary with her own smirk.

Skylar nodded, but she was serious now, concentrating on her next shot. “My dad had a table in the rec room. He taught me when I was little.”

“Well, nothing like some real competition, huh?”

Their game was over quickly and Skylar tried not to look too pleased. Mary was a gracious enough loser anyway, and and agreed to go two out of three.

“Your dad was a good teacher,” Mary commented as she set up the next round.

Skylar smiled, but studied the stick in her hands. A sort of sharpness often gripped at her in these moments, unexpected and quiet, but sometimes lately the really unexpected part was how the feeling had changed. There was something less urgent in it, perhaps. That couldn't be it. She tried to push past it. “I got a lot of practice since then. Not much else to do at home, after we lost power.” She glanced over at her competitor. “Your dad teach you?”

Mary shook her head. “No, I got this when I remodelled the place. Back when my dad was running the diner, we wouldn't have had time or space. That's what it was, before your time,” she smiled, motioning around.

“I know,” said Skylar, as a vague recollection of a photo somewhere came into her head. “You made it into a bar after he died?”

Mary nodded. “I'd helped him with the diner, when we first moved here, but after he was gone I wanted to do something different. Some of the things are the same though. Jukebox's been here forever.” She leaned forward and took the first shot, scattering the balls. “Solids again.”

Skylar waited as she took another shot. She looked around the room, studying the various tables, framed pictures, the well-loved dart board, and of course, that sometimes-still-operational jukebox. They seemed ageless, even though they were obviously worn. This time last year, she hadn't known this room quite so well. The buildings in town that had been most familiar to her had become strange – the school an empty shell, the Cyberjolt cafe a relic – and she'd retreated to her house, hoping to shelter in familiarity, but even it had felt strangely hollow. Then she'd gotten more used to venturing into odd places. Sitting in town hall meetings and gathering information. Visits to parts of the mine beyond her father's office. Farms and other places of unfamiliar business. And this strange place. The meetings and exchanges that had happened here were personal and tiny, but also huge and balance-tipping. The time they'd argued loudly over trade routes. The time they'd whispered quietly, pouring over the map. The time, a few months ago, she'd stood with the same people, raising a toast to her former classmate, shockingly snuffed out like an unsteady candle. And weeks ago, at Mary's own wedding, an event so different than Bonnie's wake but with something similar running under everyone's shaky expressions and teary words. All the smaller times like this one, small talk, games, and everyday moments.

Somehow she hadn't thought of the building as something that ever changed much. It seemed like it had always been here, underneath it all. She watched Mary sink the green ball and then the purple. If she didn't screw up soon this game would be over fast as well. “So you taught yourself?” asked Skylar.

“Sorta, though I mostly learned from losing, when I first opened the bar,” she smirked. She managed to get the red ball into a pocket, but missed the next shot.

Skylar was distracted as she took her turn and only got one ball in. “Was it hard? Doing it alone?”

“Sometimes, yeah. I had to learn how to trust myself. But also to accept help from other people. There were always friends, neighbours.” She glanced at Skylar, a somewhat hesitant smile on her face. “I was just thinking about Gracie earlier. What I owe to her.”

Skylar raised her eyebrows at a somber feeling of surprise that didn't make sense. Hadn't she been thinking of Gracie earlier? She would never understand the way it always crept up on you.

“Not that we were the closest of friends, but she'd ask how I was doing. Always reminding me to stand up to anyone who thought they could push me around.”

Skylar smiled, picturing a familiar determined glare she'd assumed Dale had inherited from his second mother. Her thoughts quickly shifted and she let out a careful breath. “He's missing her, today.” She concentrated, taking her turn and staring down the orange-striped ball, and somehow it was easier to say the forbidden words that had settled in her mind, looking at the familiar game pieces. “I think...of course it's terrible, what happened. But I sometimes sort of envy him. That's horrible to say isn't it? It's so...well, maybe not envy. But I wonder if it's better, knowing what happened to someone, for real.”

“Right.” She spoke like she knew. Maybe. She hadn't gasped in horror at least. Skylar closed her eyes a second, wondering if she could take it back, but found the words racing past before she could stop them.

“Everyone else...they're dealing with so much, today. But also the people around them know what it means to them, what to say. Or they try anyway.”

She could feel Mary's eyes on her, considering, without having to glance back at her. “You mean because we can acknowledge what they've lost?” she asked.

“Yeah,” said Skylar. She moved to strike and felt her hand slip, the cue stick hitting the green, and she nearly smiled to herself. It was almost on purpose. She motioned to Mary to take her turn so her opponent would be setting up her own shot as she summoned the courage to finish what she wanted to say or run back outside.

“I keep...everywhere I go out there, I keep looking. I don't know if it's idiotic, thinking they could still be okay. I don't want to give up. I feel like it'd be betraying them, but worse, I just...I don't want to.”

Mary was silent, still staring forward at the game as if waiting for her to finish. “I understand,” she finally said softly.

Breathlessly, Skylar continued. “But I also...I just miss them. All the time. And it's terrible but sometimes I wish...” The momentum seemed to have left her as suddenly as it had arrived. She glanced at her hands, searching.

Mary tilted her head, seeming to think it over, and finally took her shot, sinking the maroon ball. She turned back to Skylar. “It's tiring. Holding on and not knowing?”

Skylar crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. She couldn't admit it, any of the nights she'd woken in a sweat, any of the days she's lost her train of thought staring out at the passing road. There was some sort of sick relief in letting herself speak now and she didn't want to falter. “I'm not sure if I should try to let go. Accept that I'm really alone. The last Stevens. But sometimes I want to.” She shot for the 8 ball, but once again felt her aim faltering. She stepped aside, meeting Mary's eyes for a moment and turning back to the game.

Mary gave a quick nod as she aimed and struck. “Nice,” said Skylar as the 8 ball rolled into the pocket.

“Guess we're on for one more?” asked Mary. Skylar nodded, letting her set things up again.

Mary went about the familiar task, feeling strangely off kilter at just how familiar everything felt. She surprised herself as she spoke. “I think I understand. Being the last one. Trying to figure out how to accept it.” She motioned to the table, letting Skylar break this time.

“So my mom left when I was a kid,” Mary continued. The words sounded unfamiliar in her voice; they'd been true for so long but so seldom spoken out loud. “Not the same of course. But it leaves you with a sort of war with yourself. Deciding to move on or deciding to hold on and hope. Even though it seemed silly, I changed my mind a lot,” she smirked.

Skylar glanced up in her task of aiming at solids this time. “Did it ever go away?”

“I guess, in most ways that count. It's been so many years. But I still sometimes remember that other side, that feeling. Wanting to get back what I lost, and wondering how to go forward.”

Skylar nodded. “Makes sense.”

Mary caught her eye and smiled carefully. “But then I kind of think even if you're the last Stevens, even if I'm the last Bailey, we're not the end. You still have your family. You're it.”

Skylar grimaced, and then looked apologetic. “That sounds sad.”

Mary smiled again, touching the edge of the table as she contemplated. “It's like, you bring it with you. The things you remember most, the ways you act when you get in a fight or when you screw up, even the things you think are most important part of Thanksgiving dinner. And you don't really realize it but you pass it on too, to whatever new circle of people you find.”

“Yeah,” said Skylar, though she wasn't sure yet if she completely agreed. She stepped back and let Mary pass by her to get a better angle for her turn. “What if I do that?” she was nearly whispering. “And they're out there?” She wasn't as embarrassed this time. The question was so obvious and made such sense.

Mary glanced at her from across the table, leaning towards the corner with the red striped ball. “I don't know, but I think if I were your parents, I'd just have to hope you were doing your best and that I could trust in how strong and smart you are and know you're okay. I'm sure they're so proud.”

Skylar wanted to look away but she made herself hold Mary's gaze until she turned back to the game.

Mary smiled triumphantly as she sent the blue striped ball into a different pocket. She looked over at Skylar again. “But of course, they don't know just how proud they should be. How much we owe you.”

Skylar smirked. “Not that much.”

“Seriously? Most of us would probably be dead of starvation or Hudson River virus or something by now.” Skylar couldn't help but return her smile, though it was strange to be so light about the heaviness that always hung over them.

“Well, it isn't just me,” she said quickly. “So many people are always doing so much.”

“True,” said Mary, stepping back and motioning to her for her turn. “We seem to be really lucky. But still.”

Skylar tried not to look too proud of herself as she sank her remaining purple and gold balls and took aim at the 8.

“Aw!” Mary made a show of being disappointed to be bested, but she was grinning at Skylar, who nodded. “Hats off to you,” she said.

“Thanks,” said Skylar with a laugh. Her mind briefly flashed to a long ago moment of triumph in her basement, her father grinning at her and launching into an instant recap of the game, but she felt strangely lighter than she had earlier.

They chatted for a little while longer, exchanging the usual information about the comings and goings of their fellow townspeople. Soon the truck arrived outside again and they went out to help Dale and Archie unload the few things that had been designated for the bar.

As they headed towards the door again, Mary caught Skylar's attention. “If you change your mind and want to come with us, you're still welcome.”

Skylar nodded. “Thanks. Maybe we'll be by later. Rematch? You can pick this time.”

“Deal,” said Mary.

Skylar caught up with Dale as they walked back towards the truck. She smiled at his familiar look of concentration as he checked the back before closing the door. She still didn't know the path but perhaps she understood the question that was bothering her.

Mary smiled as she watched the kids go, thinking to herself of the many conversations she'd heard and even participated in as people worried over them this past year. Scary as it was, it was easier to jump forward and trust, after all. The answer was the same as always really, waiting around on the edge of things until it was time to recognize it again.  

 

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