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Devon Holmes
The Return
Sun May 7, 2006 19:54

Knock, knock, knock.

Devon stood there, waiting patiently due to the strands of Broadway inspired music floating from an open second-level window. Well, if they couldn't hear him, there was always the doorbell, but he didn't want to disturb the baby. How old was he now? Hell, Caleb had even called a few hours after Lucy had given birth, informing him in an oh-so-proud father-like manner that he was now the uncle to a strapping young lad named James. That had been one of his first pangs of homesickness, honestly. Who would have imagined that it would come from a man who he had hated for so long?

Finally the door opened, though, causing Devon to raise his gaze expectantly considering Caleb was taller than him. But, no. The person was nearly at an even height with himself, and was definitely not his brother. Frankly, he never would have believed that he would see Michael Pierson again, aside from familial functions if Isabel asked him to come along.

Then again, he didn't quite see this coming, either.
The sunglasses cracked, his nose burned like fury, and a distinctly eye-watering ache managed to encompass the rest of his features. Gasping for breath and letting lose a few choice curses, Devon sat down hard on the steps, one hand gingerly cupping his face while the other frantically searched his pockets for an elusive handkerchief. Because that copper taste in his mouth wasn't from sucking on a damned penny! Cursing once more as the crimson flow slowly ebbed, Devon took a deep breath and grimaced when he touched his nose. Which in turn brought about another curse.

"Jesus Christ, Devon!" Mumbling and grumbling, he managed to get one good look at Caleb before his eyes watered, sending the world into a blurry splotch of vague colors. Damn his head was ringing. "Come on, let's get you inside."
One hour later, which involved an ice pack, several white tablets which were practically forced down his throat, and a belt of scotch... Well, he was feeling pretty damned warm and fuzzy inside! Little James was upstairs taking his afternoon nap, while the little guy's mommy was giving him an odd look. One he couldn't place at all. Why the hell was she looking at him like he had grown a third head? Setting aside the ice pack, he frowned slightly at Caleb and Lucy's instantaneous wince. This wasn't fukking helping his ego any, thank you very much!

"It can't be that bad." A mirror in the guest bathroom down the hall told a different story. "Holy shit!" Then it began. Laughter, wrapped tightly about his throat, escaping in a few measly hiccoughs until he could get himself back under control.

Though considering this was his second broken nose, Devon knew what to do and how to bandage it. Was it silly not going to the emergency room? You betcha. But at this point he honestly could have cared less. A few days lying down seemed like it would fix that incessant throbbing just behind his eyes. After suitably taping his nose – this thing was just going to be permanently crooked, damn it – Devon walked out of the bathroom to tell Caleb and Lucy just that.

Instead what happened was a mite more interesting. Caleb practically shoved him down onto the sofa, and plopped little James right onto his lap. The child eyed him curiously, before beginning to viciously tug on his tie. Well, at least it wasn’t his hair, or stealing his sunglasses—Damn it! His glasses had been broken when Michael greeted him ever so fondly at the door. Right, well he could always just buy another set. It wasn’t as if he could wear them at the moment anyhow, now could he?

“So, how long are you staying?” Caleb queried out of left field, snatching up a small rattle to entertain his son with. Damn, it was weird to think that Caleb had a son. The mythical creature they had all thought he was… had actually proved to be normal. “And where are you staying?”

“They kicked me out of D.C. for a month!” Devon muttered, taking the rattle so as to entertain James. At least they had chosen a good name, and not something like ‘Percival’. Ick. “My boss threatened to toss me out and put me on a watch list if I tried to come back.” Trying not to frown – which wasn’t exactly difficult with a bundle of joy in your arms – he gave a little shrug. “I tossed my stuff in a room at the Hilton north of town. Why?”

“A hotel? For a month? You’re insane.” Shooting a glance at Caleb that made his brow hurt, he shook his head. “No, you’re staying here.”

“The hell I am!” Cringing when the baby stilled at his raised voice, he bounced James instinctively on his knee, tilting the child to the side so he could see his father more easily. “Caleb, I… can’t. I just…” Gah. He was so fukking scared that there would be a repeat of what happened the last time he stayed with Caleb and Lucy. Even though when he looked at the young woman now, all he saw was his brother’s wife and a proud mother.

“You’re fine, Devon,” Caleb issued in a quiet voice, leaning over to heft James up onto his hip as he rose. “Go lay down in the guest bedroom. On the first floor, if that’d make you feel any better. I’ll get your things from the hotel.” With that, his brother disappeared toward the kitchen.

And so it began.

When Devon woke in the morning, with a splitting headache and an intense pressure beneath his eyes, all his luggage was unpacked and beneath the bed, clothing hung or folded in dresser drawers. He had managed to sleep through that? Rubbing the back of his head, the feeb eventually managed to make his way to the shower, which helped a great deal. His nose didn’t look fantastic, but it wasn’t as bad as the prior evening. Maybe it was just a small break.

Enthusiastically dressing in a pair of khakis and a comfortable knit top – ever so thankful to be rid of those damned suits! – Devon sauntered out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen. Lucy was there, attempting to feed James and cook breakfast at the same time. She didn’t look frazzled, but harried most definitely. Trying not to grin, he rifled around in a few drawers before locating the ibuprofen and pain medication, taking enough of each to get the edge off. That was all he needed, nor did he feel like being drugged into oblivion.

“Want some help?”

Eventually it was settled that Lucy would sit down and feed James, while he could cook breakfast. Of course, the patented Holmes Omelets were back in full force, much to Caleb’s dismay when he came downstairs. Muttering something about, “Shoving the whole damned pig into that skillet,” but he ate just as much as anyone else, if not more. Pffbt, hypocrite!

“Have anything planned for tomorrow?”

“Mmm… No, not really. Eventually I want to visit Isabel, along with Ben and Hugh.” Really, it was the least he could do. Though his family may not understand the sort of kinship he held with Isabel, and its completely innocent nature, it apparently wasn’t a problem. “Why?” He had a feeling he was going to be asking that question a lot in the next few weeks.

“Was wondering if you wanted to attend the re-opening ceremony for the Playhouse.” Caleb paused, pushing a few hash browns around on his plate. “It’s being dedicated to Sonnet.”

“Oh.” Devon stared down at his unfinished breakfast, able to feel his appetite diminish at an alarming rate. “Sure, I’ll go.” Tossing his napkin onto the table, he excused himself before going for a walk. Maybe visit Dad. God, they were going to dedicate the Playhouse to Sonnet? Fukk, why?! Because she did her job and helped Lucy?

When the next morning rolled around, the doubts resurfaced.

Devon had decided to drive in his rental car, separate from Caleb & Lucy, so he could have some time to think to himself without the Spanish Inquisition coming down on his head. Once again, his nose was bandaged, though lightly this time, enough to prevent the movement of the cartilage beneath. He had opted for a dark gray suit, even if there were a bunch of theater rats attending. Hell, he looked like he was attending a funeral instead of a celebration.

He had no clue what was on the agenda for the ceremony, and wasn’t exactly planning to find out, either. Just show up, listen to the mushy stories, and then go to the nearest bar and get totally plastered until the bartender kicked his ass out. It’d been a good long while since he had done that, which sounded like a fine thing to do now.

Stepping in through the front doors of the Playhouse, Devon was shocked at the transformation. No longer were the ceiling low and the doorframes blocked off. The ceiling was vaulted, with carved friezes and the like running about the top of the walls. What was amazing of all was the fact that it looked tasteful. And really fukking expensive, but still beautiful.

The theater proper had been completely redone as well, obviously modernized and the like. He hadn’t exactly been fond of the old Playhouse, which had begun to be rundown and worn out. Now this… Hell, even if they put on a play of two year olds reciting Hamlet, people would still come. Slowly coming down the center aisle, and eventually hopping up onto the stage and taking a good look at what Caleb and Lucy saw every time they performed. How the hell did they manage it? This looked nerve wracking, and the seats were empty!

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Benjamin Adams had snuck up on him from behind, though he didn’t really mind, giving a subdued nod instead. “What happened to you?”

“Ah… Er…” Scratching the back of his head, and wondering if he should really say, Devon shrugged. “Michael said hello, the other day.”

“I see.” Silence, but he didn’t expect much else until Ben beckoned him to follow towards the lobby, where apparently everyone had en massed while he had been gawking at the theater.

In the center stood a surprisingly healthy Daniel David McCallister, giving some sort of speech, to which smiles were given. But it wasn’t the director that had his attention, instead the man that looked beyond surly towards the back, obviously wanting to glare at one and all. He couldn’t really blame Michael, either, to be honest.

Eventually the speech turned towards the dedication, which Ben spoke instead of Caleb or Lucy. It was odd, to hear people talk about Sonnet in the past tense. He hadn’t really been exposed to it, excepting the few times he spoke with the therapist about her, and even then he had a difficult time saying that she was gone. Supposedly he was making progress, though he had yet to see it.

Slowly, and surely, Devon began inching his way towards Michael, until they nearly stood side by side. The actor shifted his weight, and the feeb waited for the punch that was surely to follow. But it never came, which was a nice surprise. Instead, he spoke in a hushed tone.

“I deserved that, the other morning.” And Devon really thought he did. Michael didn’t seem to make any recognition that he heard him, which was to be expected, really. Drawing a deep breath as the talks of Sonnet went on and on, his grimace quickly shifted into a frown. “That’s it, I need a drink.” Pause.

“You coming, or not?”

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    • The Return — Devon Holmes, Sun May 7 19:54
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        • Dude!Devon Holmes, Tue May 9 14:41
          Devon couldn’t believe he just did that. Strolling out to his rented SUV, the feeb settled himself behind the wheel. He’d wait five minutes to see if Michael really was going to come, before going... more
          • Dude, Part DeuxM Pierson, Thu Jun 1 10:22
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                  Eight months on the road was hell, but Lara wasn't trying to complain. Not when pouring her soul into her voice and fingers became such a heady rush that Bennet had been forced to ease her off stage... more
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                      The last week had been an utter haze for Devon. Between the days that he had gone out pub hopping with Michael, and the various other occasions where he told himself he was going to go out for only... more
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