[November 6th] [The Rockford Files-related] Chronicles of a Friendship, 6

[insaneladybug.livejournal.com]

Title: Chronicles of a Friendship, scene 6
Day/Theme: November 6th - Dear You
Series: The Rockford Files (using characters from The Queen of Peru episode)
Character/Pairing: Ginger Townsend, Lou Trevino
Rating: K+/PG

Continuing the mini-arc.


By Lucky_Ladybug

Ginger sighed tiredly as he sat in the tub, running shampoo into his hair. He was exhausted and his arms felt like lead. It was torture keeping them up.

With a large house came a large bathroom, big enough to even keep a couple of chairs in. Lou was in one, tense, ready to leap up if Ginger needed help or started to slip or fall asleep in the tub. Ginger felt uncomfortable to be watched, even though he had agreed this was likely a necessary precaution at this point.

Sleepily he held his hands under the faucet, washing the excess lather away. Then he reached for the shower curtain to pull it across.

“Ginger . . .”

“I’m not going to stand up,” Ginger grunted in response to Lou’s worried, warning tone. “But the water will go everywhere when I turn on the shower, if the curtain isn’t pulled.”

He turned the middle tap, sending the water cascading over him. He shut his eyes, annoyed by the dripping soap mixed with water, and concentrated instead on the entire scene surrounding him.

It was surreal. Lou was alive and here with him. Ginger could not stop being amazed by it. Lou had been dead to him for days and the house had been empty and lonely and cold. But suddenly everything was as it had been and Ginger and Lou were swiftly slipping back into their comfortable old interaction, as though nothing had ever happened.

Ginger frowned to himself. Did that mean he was already taking Lou’s presence for granted? He didn’t really believe that. Certainly he didn’t want to believe it.

Maybe, he mused instead, it meant that nothing needed to be changed. They were each immeasurably joyous that the other was alive, but why should that mean that their interaction had to be different? It was basically how they had communicated for twenty years. It had only softened a bit over time as they had grown all the fonder of each other. There had to be something worthwhile to it, considering that.

At last he felt clean and free of soap and he shut off the water. “Alright,” he announced, pulling the curtain back. “I’m ready to step out now.”

Lou immediately came with a large, thick towel, draping it around Ginger’s shoulders before trying to help him out of the tub. Grateful, Ginger held onto Lou and pulled the towel closer around him at the same time. Even though Lou had dressed Ginger in dry clothes while he had been unconscious (Ginger would insist upon thinking of it like that, instead of that he had been dead), Lou knew that Ginger wanted his dignity whenever possible. Hence, the towel now that Ginger was very conscious.

It was probably also to try to keep him from catching that blasted pneumonia.

“It was awful when I pulled you out of the water before,” Lou rasped.

“About as awful as when I saw what was left of the poor chap they set up to be you,” Ginger retorted.

Lou nodded. “They told me about that,” he said darkly. “They’re all sick!”

He sighed as he helped Ginger move slowly out of the bathroom and down the hall. “I wonder who the guy was . . . if he had anybody who’s up worrying and grieving for him.”

Ginger did not like that thought, but it had occurred to him too. “The police can start to unravel the mystery in the morning.”

It was a relief to reach his room and be able to collapse on the bed. He still kept the towel firmly around his body; he was so tired he wondered how he was going to do a thing more.

Lou crossed to the dresser and took out some underwear and nightclothes. Ginger watched, trying to half-heartedly dry himself off at the same time.

“I heard something crackling in your pocket in the hall,” he remarked. “What was that? Surely they didn’t give you the daily newspaper to read in your captivity.”

Lou froze. “Well, actually they did,” he said slowly. “At least the edition with the article about my ‘death’. And the one with my obituary.” He tried to smile, weakly. “It was nice. I mean, what was written about me was nice.”

“Some of it was Michael’s,” Ginger said. “But some of it was mine.” He frowned. “And you kept those?”

“I did,” said Lou, still hesitant.

“But that wasn’t what was crackling,” Ginger finished matter-of-factly. He reached for the underwear, somehow managing to weakly pull it on.

“No, I don’t think so.” Lou stood by, averting his gaze but wanting to be on hand in case his help was needed.

“It’s something you don’t want to talk about, then.” Ginger went for the pajama pants, really feeling half-asleep and in a fog. He fumbled with the legs, scowling as his foot got caught in one of them.

“Well . . . it’s just . . . awkward.” Lou shifted. “I knew you thought I was dead. And I knew you’d be looking for those crooks to get your revenge. I thought maybe I’d be able to get away then. But on the other hand, I didn’t know if I’d still be alive when you came. So I . . . I wrote letters to you and Mike and my parents.” He shook his head. “I was just going to toss them now. I mean, what I wrote was just the weird ramblings of a guy who figured his number might be up. And reading them now might be too painful. Rubbing salt in an old wound, you know?”

Ginger was silent as he wrestled with the pajama pants and finally got them on. He drew his arms into the sleeves of the shirt, fumbling now with the buttons. At last he spoke.

“You should ask your family if they want theirs anyway. I would like mine.”

Lou hesitated. “You’re sure, Ginger?”

“Yes,” Ginger said instantly.

Slowly Lou reached into his coat pocket, producing several sheets of paper. Finding Ginger’s, he laid it on the pillow. Then he bent down to help Ginger with the remainder of the buttons.

Ginger didn’t protest. “I’m surprised they’re not all waterlogged.”

“Oh. I took my coat off when I jumped in after you,” Lou explained. “I didn’t want it weighing me down. Then I just moved them to a different coat when I changed clothes here. I didn’t want anyone finding them since I was planning to tear them up and burn the scraps.”

As Lou finished with the buttons, Ginger reached for the paper and unfolded it. Feeling awkward to be there when Ginger was reading it, Lou stepped back.

Dear Ginger,

It looks like this might be it for me. I know you already think I’m gone, but these guys played a cruel trick on you. They’re keeping me alive because they think I know something I don’t, and they don’t want anyone looking for me. I think they’re just about to give up, though. If I don’t get back to you, maybe the police will find this letter and give it to you.

If that’s happened, please try not to blame yourself. I know you will, and you’ll think that maybe you could have saved me, but they made sure no one could. This isn’t your fault.

I’m so sorry for the pain you’re going through. I know a lot of what you’re feeling because of how those other guys made me think you were dead in the past. But I know I don’t know it all. I figure pain is different for every person.

I know you’ll be out trying to bring these guys down for what they did. And if you see this, it’ll probably be too late to stop you, but if it’s not, please, Ginger. Let the cops handle it. Give them your info and don’t risk your life.

I also know you’re probably wondering how you’re even going to go on. But if you don’t get yourself killed, I know you’ll manage it. You’ve never let anything in life get you down. You’ve come through a rotten childhood, prison, and you rose in the company ranks from delivering the mail to being one of the most trusted developers in the business. And you’re no stranger to death. You miss your parents a lot, but you’ve come through it.

You’ve been my best friend for twenty years. That’s meant so much to me. We’ve had our rough times, and we don’t always agree, but we’ve come through it all with flying colors. If I don’t make it out of this, I’ll still be there for you. Heaven couldn’t be Heaven without everyone I care about. I want to stay down here and watch over you and Mike and the rest of my family. I know it wouldn’t be the same, and I’m guessing we probably wouldn’t even be able to talk to each other, but just know you’re not alone. I won’t forget about you no matter what.

They’re coming back now. I don’t want them to know I’ve been writing this stuff, so I’ll put it away.

See you later, Buddy. One way or another, I promise.

Lou

Ginger looked up, moved and shaken and sobered. “Thank you,” he said, quietly. “This means a great deal to me.” He refolded it with care. “Set it on my desk for now.”

Lou took it and did as requested. “I’m glad you like it,” he said. “But I’m even more glad that you’re seeing it this way and not the way I was afraid you would.”

“If they had killed you and I realized I could have saved you had I only found them faster, I doubt I would have recovered,” Ginger frowned. “It would have been too much on top of everything else.”

Lou nodded. “That’s what I was afraid of the most. But everything ended up turning out alright.”

Ginger got off the bed long enough to turn down the covers. “And we’re most likely going to have night terrors about the what ifs anyway,” he grumbled as he climbed in. “I’m sorry for what I put you through tonight.”

“None of it would have happened to either of us if it wasn’t for what they did,” Lou said. “I don’t blame you, Ginger. I blame them.”

“I know.” Ginger laid down and looked up at Lou. “I do as well.”

“Right now, though,” Lou went on, “I’m thanking God that we’re both safe.”

Ginger considered that. “I should thank Him too,” he decided. “You emerged without a scratch and I was allowed to come back.”

“Then this time you really believe that we were being looked after?” Lou said in some surprise. Ginger usually felt that because of their criminal backgrounds, God would not be interested in helping them—particularly since Ginger still sometimes wanted to be involved in taking jewels (even though he ignored the urge).

Ginger thought back on his experience. “This time, I believe there really isn’t any other explanation,” he said.

Lou smiled. “I don’t think there is, either.

“Goodnight, Buddy.”

“Goodnight,” Ginger answered. His eyes were already sinking closed.

Lou rested a hand on Ginger’s shoulder for the briefest moment. Then he crossed to the door, dimming the lights.

Tomorrow would be hectic. He would have to tell the police he was alive and he and Ginger would have to make statements.

But tonight was just peaceful and good.