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James was at a loss as to what to do.
Parker had been Parker for about a week now. A week of breaking down when doctors called him Thomas--or, God forbid, Jefferson --a week of him trying so hard to get his body to work the way it was supposed to, a week of fervently trying to catch up with all the schoolwork he'd missed.
A week of avoiding James’ touch and looking guilty every time he flinched or tensed up.
And so, James didn't know what to do. How could he? There wasn't really a manual for When Your Boyfriend Loses His Memory And Then Gets It Back But It Fucks Up His Mental Health . James would so buy that.
But instead, he found himself, as usual, sitting beside Parker’s bed, trying to help him with the algebra II homework that he’d missed in his two and a half months of hospitalization.
“Thirteen squared is 169, right?” Parker asked, scribbling rapidly on the copied workbook page.
“Yeah,” James replied, picking at the edge of his cast. It only covered his forearm now, military green and covered in messy sharpie.
Parker sighed, frowning down at the small numbers and letters that, in James’ opinion, were invented by the devil himself.
“Hey, Parker?” James asked. Parker glanced up at him through the wisps of curls that were slowly growing back.
“What’s up?” Parker asked, obviously trying to mask the strain in his voice.
“You know you don’t have to do this right now , right?” James said slowly, trying not to come off as patronizing, “You’re still in the hospital. No one would blame you for just taking it easy.”
“I would,” Parker mumbled under his breath like he was trying to keep James from hearing.
“What do you mean, ‘you would’?” James asked, putting down his pencil and looking at Parker.
“It’s nothing. Nevermind. So, linear and nonlinear equations, right?”
“God, that was the worst deflection I have ever seen, and I’ve seen Alexander try to steer a conversation away from Maria Reynolds,” James said, “Seriously, Parks. What’s up?”
Parker sighed, and his grip on his pen tightened. “I said I would blame me. I’m already so far behind, I shouldn’t be making excuses to get out of work,” he explained.
“That’s a very Alexander-esque notion,” James said evenly. Now it was his turn to try not to look nervous.
“Says the one who nearly worked himself to death in college,” Parker snarked, and James didn’t bother trying to hide his smile.
“I can't deny that,” he admitted lightly before his tone grew serious again. “But that has taught me a lot about which limits I should push, and when it's just not worth it . My health suffered for the rest of my life because I wanted to graduate early just to prove I could.”
“This is different ,” Parker said quietly yet sharply. “I'm not trying to prove that I am better than everyone else; I'm just trying not to fall impossibly behind.”
James grimaced. “Your body won't care about your motivation.”
“ My body ,” Parker said through gritted teeth, “is the reason I’m still here, instead of at school with you and Peggy, so I don’t want to hear it.”
James let the subject drop.
OoOoO
Alexander came in for the first time since Parker had fully remembered a few days later.
“Hey,” he began quietly, “I’m sorry about all of that, y’know, ripping into you and shi--”
“No you’re not,” Parker interrupted neutrally, “You enjoyed it, don’t lie.”
Alex paused. “Yeah,” he admitted, “but it was still a really dick move.”
Parker groaned. “Hamilton, listen to me. It’s fine. You don’t have to treat me like some--some porcelain doll about to break. I'm not fragile.” His voice cracked slightly on the last word. He hoped that Alexander wouldn't notice.
“But--”
“No buts,” Parker snapped, “For once in your damn life just listen . I’m okay .”
It was a lie and they both knew it. Parker’s eyes bore into Alexander, a challenge written clearly in them, all but daring Alex to contradict him.
“Whatever you say, man,” Alexander finally relented. “Whatcha working on? Is that algebra?”
Parker did his best not to sigh in relief and let himself get swept back into his work.
OoOoO
“You should talk to him, Your Excellency--”
“Alexander, how many times have I told you not to call me that?”
“Many times, sir,” Alex admitted. He’d stayed after class today, as he’d done many times since revealing his identity to George William, and the professor had responded in turn. Today, however, their discussion wasn’t simply a catch up in the goings-on of their lives. No, today Alexander had a purpose . “But my point still stands,” he continued, “Whatever disagreement you two have had in the past, you were still his president just as you were mine. He may listen to you.”
“From what you’ve told me, he’s not even listening to Madison right now. What makes you think he would listen to me ?” George retorted.
Alex sighed. “I think the fact that it’s coming from James may be part of the problem, sir. That kid is more in love with Parker than a high schooler has any right to be, and Parker knows it. He’s not going to completely trust anything James has to say, simply because he knows James is always going to think and see the best in him,” he said, “But you… he was never your favorite. He might believe you.”
“If it’s someone who dislikes him that you want,” George began, “shouldn’t it be you speaking to him?”
Alexander huffed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Thing is, sir, Parker and I are… not best friends , per se, but we don’t despise each other. We don’t even dislike each other anymore,” he explained.
“I don’t necessarily dislike him either, son.”
Alex’s eye roll at the term of endearment was enough to make George smile.
“But you don’t know him,” Alexander argued, “The only things you have to compare him against are Jefferson and the stuff I’ve told you. You’re not going to sugar coat your opinion of him.”
“Say I agree to go see him; what do you even want me to do?” George was beginning to relent.
Alexander saw his opening. “Just talk to him. Try to get him to accept some form of help!”
There was a pause, and then: “You realize this is incredibly hypocritical, coming from you?”
“I know,” Alex confessed, “But sir . Just something . Please.”
George sighed. “I never thought I’d see the day that Alexander Hamilton would ask me to help Thomas Jefferson,” he finally said.
“Times have changed, sir. We’ve all changed; Parker more than any of us. He’s a good kid. Actually, he reminds me of myself when I first came to America. Loud, opinionated, stubborn, and desperate to prove himself,” Alexander said, “He needs you, sir. Just like I did.”
A quiet fell over the classroom.
“I’ll see what I can do.”
OoOoO
Parker was beyond done with physical therapy. For two weeks, he'd been forced to spend his mornings wheeling around until his arms were sore and his heart felt like it was going to explode from his chest. He was allowed to stay in bed until after lunch when he was brought down to the rehab wing and was forced to do “exercises” so that someday he'd “be able to walk again”.
To walk again .
Parker could barely wiggle his toes without sobbing, and these sadists thought someday he'd be able to walk again ?
They weren't trying to get him to walk right now , of course. They had him moving his toes and ankles, bending his knees and stretching. The cycle just kept going, one after another, over and over and over until the industrial air conditioning dried the tears that had silently leaked onto his cheeks and he was gasping for breath.
And then James arrived.
They would chat for a little while, allow themselves to simply enjoy each other's company until Parker couldn't stand the idea of falling farther behind any longer and demanded that they start on some sort of work.
His mom would come in later, the girls in tow, and he'd tell them he was doing fine and that everything was getting easier and that he felt much better.
Sometimes, it was even the truth.
It was the routine. The monotony was boring, almost absurdly so, but it was also somehow comforting. He knew what to expect. It was familiar.
After everything with Him , familiarity was a wonderful commodity.
This meant that, when a tall, balding man with an impressive set of eyebrows and an incredibly unfashionable goatee walked into his room on an otherwise uneventful Tuesday, Parker was understandably surprised.
“Who are you?” Parker asked, glaring at the man as best he could when he was sore and tired and ready to fall asleep until Jemmy arrived.
“My name is George William,” the man said with a small grin. “I'm some of your friends’ American History professor at NYU. A certain misters Hayley and Barnes?”
“Daniel and Alex?” Parker asked, clearly confused. Why would a random college professor visit him in the hospital?
“Your friends are worried about you, son. Alexander in particular,” the man said.
“He has nothing to be worried about,” Parker snapped.
“Is that so?” the man asked, not unkindly, “And here I thought you were in the hospital.”
Parker started fiddling with his bed sheets.
“Let me tell you something, son. I once knew a man who acted a lot like you. He never wanted anyone to worry about him, never wanted anyone's help, never willing to slow down, even when he ought to. He got into a lot of trouble that way, and I don’t want the same to happen to you. If you need to take things slow or ask for help, it doesn’t make you a lesser man,” Mr. William said, “In fact, I think it may make you a better one.”
Parker glared at him again. “Thank you for the rousing inspirational speech, really,” he said, “But what gives you the right to come in here and tell me what decisions I should make? What authority do you have over me?”
Mr. William blinked. “None,” he admitted, “I have absolutely no control over your actions. I just came because Alexander asked me to. He asked me to because he cares about you. Do you believe that, son? The man who hated you more than any other free man in America came and asked me to visit you simply because he thought it would help.”
“What… How do you know all that? Did-did Alex tell you?” Parker asked.
“He did--”
“He had no right!” Parker shouted, “He had no right to tell you! That-that's a secret ! That’s personal !”
“Calm down, son,” Mr. William said.
“Don’t call me that ! You’re not my dad! You-you don’t even know me,” Parker yelled, feeling a lump form in his throat, “You think ‘cos you’re some prissy college professor you know what it’s like, but you don't!”
Parker hated the Mississippi accent that slipped into his voice when he was upset.
“Actually, I think I do,” Mr. William said calmly. He was actually smiling .
“What the hell do you mean?”
“We're in a similar situation, Parker. We both did things we're not proud of. We're both put upon a pedestal we don't deserve. We're both afraid of people finding out about our past.”
“Who were you?” Parker questioned, “Tell me or leave.”
“George Washington.”
Parker couldn't help but laugh. “George Washington?” he asked, “Are you sure? You could be Caesar, or King George, or Christopher Columbus, or fucking Jesus Christ!”
“Parker--”
“No. No. Bullshit. If you were George Washington, and Alex and Daniel knew, they would be told us! Hell, Alexander can't keep a secret for shit! Look at the damn Reynolds Pamphlet,” Parker said.
“I asked them not to tell you.”
“Why? Still playing favorites? Still so special that only Hamilton gets to talk to you?” Parker spat.
“Listen--”
“No, no, you listen! Laf-Lafayette misses you so much ! You were like their father, and now you won't even talk to them? Now I know you're not Washington because Washington wasn't the kind of dick who'd abandon the people who care about him!” Parker raged.
“That is quite enough !” Mr. William finally cut in. “Lafayette is perfectly aware of my identity--in fact, I had lunch with them three days ago. Now, I came to try and talk some sense into you so that Alexander might stop worrying, but that seems pointless now. Goodbye, Mr. Jones. I hope you feel better soon.”
Mr. William left the room and closed the door behind him.
Parker watched him leave. He didn't entirely understand why tears were picking at the corners of his eyes.
OoOoO
“Hey, Parker?” James asked cautiously when he arrived later that evening.
“What’s up?” Parker asked, putting down the notebook he was writing his English assertion in.
James took a deep breath. “So I heard something, uh, strange at school today--”
“If it was Anna being an ass, I can guarantee, that’s not strange.”
“No, no, nothing like that,” James assured, “It actually… it was about you.”
“What about me?” Parker asked, suddenly sitting up straight.
“Someone let something slip. About, y’know, Him .”
“ What ,” Parker demanded. The tone of voice made it clear that this was not even a question.
“Somehow, the press got wind of your situation--probably a chatty nurse or something--and did a bit of a tell-all,” James said quickly. “People are already asking me questions--they’re actually asking Alexander even more questions, which I would have deemed impossible, seeing as he’s out about it--and I just wanted to know how you wanted us to respond.”
Parker swore the only reason he couldn’t feel his stomach settling in his toes is that he couldn’t really feel his toes at all. “They--they know ? Everyone knows?” he whispered, his voice suddenly shaky and soft.
“Well, probably not everyone ,” James mumbled, “But, a lot…”
Parker couldn’t really hear James at this point. Everything was drowned out by the weight of his panic, like someone trying to shout over the sound of a hurricane.
“Parker?” someone asked, but their voice was muffled and distorted, “Parker, sunshine, talk to me.”
“They can’t,” Parker whispered, “They can’t know . No one can know! No one can know !”
With every word, his voice grew louder and louder as he tried to overcome the weight and the noise.
“They can’t know! They--they--”
“Parker, Parker, shhh, listen to me, okay? Please?”
“If they know--they’re going to ask--they’re going to think--” Parker tried to get the words out, but, once again, words were failing him.
“Parker, if anyone tries to say or do anything that makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop them, okay? I’ll stop them. I’ll be there. I’m right here.”
“I’m not him!” Parker shouted, “ I’m not him! They’re going to make me be him!”
“No one is going to make you do anything, understand? I won’t let them. You won’t have to be him. You can just be you, okay?”
“They can’t know,” Parker murmured finally, wanting nothing more than to curl into a ball and will the world away. But he couldn’t even do that. He just wanted to wrap up, to hide , and he couldn’t .
Two arms pulled him against someone’s chest, holding him close. “I’ve got you,” the voice was saying, “I’ve got you. You’re safe. Nothing bad is going to happen. I’ve got you.”
Parker allowed himself to be held as the waves of panic crashed over him.
OoOoO
“Peggy?” Libby asked as they sat at their breakfast table, “Have you heard the news lately?”
Peggy scoffed. “I’ve been trying to avoid the news at all costs, honestly.”
Libby’s shoulders tensed up. “You need to look at this,” she pushed her phone at Peggy, who picked it up with a sigh.
Peggy quickly scanned the article and choked on her hot chocolate. “What is this ?” she demanded, “‘With the revival of quite possibly the most controversial founding father, age-old American debates have been given new life.’ What kind of bullshit is this?”
“Keep going,” Libby said.
“‘After rumors that the reincarnation of Thomas Jefferson--’ Libby, what is this, exactly?” Peggy asked.
“According to the article, someone at the hospital let something leak. Something about how much of an asshole Thomas was. People got wind of it, and…” Libby trailed off.
Peggy tugged at the end of her braid. “Does Parker know?”
“I'm not sure. I've checked a couple different sources, it's all over. And if I know, then James definitely does,” Libby explained.
“So it all depends on whether or not James has told Parker,” Peggy said.
“Pretty much.”
Peggy tossed Libby her phone. “This is fucking great ,” she grumbled, hiking up her backpack and straightening her socks. “I’m going to his room tonight. Do you have that Dominos gift card?”
“Yeah, why?” Libby said, digging it out of her wallet.
“I’m pretty sure Parker wants something other than shitty hospital food.”
“So you’re bringing him shitty pizza?” Libby asked, “ Unauthorized shitty pizza?”
“What else are friends for?” Peggy asked as she bolted out the door. “Love you!”
OoOoO
Peggy didn’t go to Parker’s room that night, but that was only because she went at 10:30 when she was technically supposed to be in third-hour music appreciation.
She did, however, bring pizza. It was now simply breakfast pizza .
The lady at the front desk gave her an odd look when she walked in--Peggy knew why. A seventeen-year-old girl, showing up at the hospital alone with an extra-large pizza (pepperoni and Canadian bacon, no pineapple) during school hours? Probably wasn’t routine.
Still, Peggy was told Parker was still in physical therapy and would be for another hour, so she sat herself up in the waiting room and pulled out a sketchbook.
Parker came wheeling in forty-five minutes later.
“Nice rims, shithead,” Peggy said, leaning down to hug her friend--an odd occurrence because until recently, he was the one who had to lean down to hug, well, everyone.
“Don’t you have class?” Parker asked, grinning up at her, “Or have they finally done away with it since I’ve been holed up in here?”
“Good to see you too, dick,” Peggy replied. She wasn’t lying, either. Parker, for the first time in ages , looked like Parker. His hair was finally growing back out after his surgery--though it was still nowhere near its original glory--and he had his magenta hoodie on over his hospital gown. His dark circles still had dark circles, of course, and a long scar poked through his hairline, but when he smiled he was all Parker.
“Did you bring pizza?” Parker asked. The nurse that stood behind him shot Peggy a disapproving scowl.
“Possibly,” Peggy said slowly, “If you decide to play nice.”
Parker beamed. “I always play nice,” he drawled.
“Sure, sure. C’mon. You want me to push you?” Peggy offered. Parker glared at her.
“I’m fine , thank you very much,” he snapped.
“Okay, okay, you get ‘em, tiger,” Peggy relented, putting the non-pizza-holding hand in the air.
Parker continued to wheel himself down the corridor. “So how’s school? Is Anna as insufferable as always? I know you two have art together. Although, the idea of Anna producing art of any kind is absolutely laughable ,” Parker said, his subject change as clear as a new window.
Peggy didn’t mention it. “Why do you even hate Anna so much?” she asked instead, “Sure, she’s a dumbass, but it’s not like she’s a hateful dumbass.”
Parker huffed. “With Alexander being tolerable , I have to find someone to dislike,” he explained.
Peggy rolled her eyes. “You’re a drama queen, you know that?”
“I’m also locked in a steel death trap on wheels. Let me live, Margaret.”
OoOoO
“So,” Peggy said after Parker was settled in bed, “Has James told you about the, uh, newspaper--”
“Yes,” Parker interrupted harshly, “And I’d rather not talk about it, thanks.”
“You can’t just ignore it, Parks,” Peggy pressed on, “It won’t go away on its own. If anything, the story will get a life of its own. The reporters will grow it way out of proportion.”
“So what do you want me to do?” Parker snapped. “Respond? Talk about what an asshole my past self used to be?”
“If that’s what it takes,” Peggy said stubbornly. She sighed. “Parks, I really hate to see you so downtrodden, but you’ve got to realize that it wasn’t going to stay a secret forever. Nobody can keep that big a secret, especially not if half of the hospital has known about it for weeks . Which reminds me,” she stood up. “Do you know which jerk leaked it? I need to have a few choice words with them,” she cracked her knuckles. Parker wasn’t even certain whether she was joking.
“I wish I knew,” Parker sighed. “And no, don't try to track them down. I mean, I'm pissed as hell, and probably wouldn't mind punching them, but I can understand why they hated him. Hell, I hate him.” He was rambling, but he couldn't seem to be able to stop. “God damn , I hate him. I just--I just want to be a normal fucking person. I remember what it was like, y'know. Without his memories, I mean. It was… peaceful. Calm. Nice . I was just a kid . Not some founding father with a mountain’s worth of expectations and guilt piled on top. I could just be Parker .”
“Parker…” Peggy began, “You don't mean that. Yes, your memories suck ass, but without them, you weren't you . You were… someone else, in your skin. It wasn't right .”
“Or maybe it was me!” Parker replied, “What I'm supposed to be, what I would be without all these damn memories!”
Peggy just huffed. “Like it or not,” she finally muttered, “those are your memories. You're stuck with them. They define who you are. You can't fight them, so you've just gotta learn to deal.”
“Maybe I don't want to deal!” Parker shouted.
“And maybe I don't want to feel like I'm fucking losing you to fucking tight-ass dickwad Thomas motherfucking Jefferson , but I guess neither of us is getting what we want today!” Peggy yelled.
Parker’s eyes grew wide. “Peggy…”
“No, Parker. No. I'm done with this,” Peggy said, “We've got pizza to eat.”
The room fell into an uneasy silence.
OoOoO
“I did always see the similarities between you and Thomas--”
“Parker,” Alexander reminded him habitually.
“Parker, yes. Like I was saying, I did always see how similar the two of you were, but now... Christ, Alexander, it's like I'm speaking to you all over again,” George said.
“So it's an absolute delight?”
“Not the phrase I would use,” George muttered, “How much do you know about Parker’s past? The non-Jefferson aspects, of course.”
“His dad died when he was young, and his mom remarried,” Alex said quietly, “Had the girls--his sisters, Charlie, Al, and Annabelle. From what I've gathered, their dad was a real dick. Maybe not abusive, but definitely drunk and useless. He walked out on them right before they moved here.”
George sighed. “I did my best to get through to him, Alex,” he said.
“I know you did,” Alexander replied, “I'm just upset that it wasn't enough.”
OoOoO
“C'mon, honey, just bend it a little.”
“I can't !”
Parker was exhausted, his head was pounding like a bass drum, he felt like his whole lower half was being scorched front the inside out, and the last fucking thing he wanted to do was bend his goddamn knee .
“You can,” the therapist insisted, “I know you can, Parker. You're already doing so much better. C'mon, it doesn't even have to be a lot.”
Parker squeezed his eyes shut and focussed all his energy on bending his knee.
He did it, just barely, and was left sobbing afterward.
“You did so well, kiddo. So good. C'mon, let's get you to your room, you can sleep there,” the therapist said gently, voice soothing.
Parker didn't really hear her. The room seemed to be spinning, the floor rising and falling like tidal waves. Parker fought the urge to scream – whether in frustration or in pain or even from sheer exhaustion, he didn’t know. He couldn’t seem to do anything right. His world was crumbling around him, and Parker was powerless to stop it. No matter what he did, it exacerbated everything. It was almost better to just give up, to just stop struggling against the inevitable.
OoOoO
“And this guy claimed to be Washington ?” James asked.
“Yeah, said he was here because Alexander asked him to visit me or some shit,” Parker sighed.
“Have you asked Alex about it?”
“No,” Parker admitted, “But, really James? This guy says he’s Washington, and that the only people who know are Alex, Laf, and Daniel ? Do you think Alexander could keep that secret? Do you think Lafayette wouldn’t tell Herc the moment they figured it out? Do you think Washington would talk to Aaron Burr in the first place?”
“Well…”
“It’s crazy talk, and I’m not going to bother Alexander with that sort of nonsense. He’d laugh me right out of New York!” Parker exclaimed.
“If you say so… Anyway, you get out next week? Really?” James asked, nearly bouncing with giddy excitement.
“Yup!” Parker said, his expression instantly morphing into a grin, as he squeezed James’ hand.
Over the last few weeks, they'd slowly fallen back into their relationship. Neither of them brought up Parker’s uncharacteristic skittishness, nor did James try to do anything more serious than occasional hand holding, but somehow they'd found their way back here.
They still hadn't kissed, but it was only a matter of time.
James smile could've lit it up all of New York as he wrapped his arms around Parker’s neck.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
“I missed you too, darling,” Parker replied, the word not catching in his throat like it was prone to do.
They stayed there for a moment, clinging to each other; clinging to the idea that things were getting better.
OoOoO
“Mr. Jefferson!” a reporter called as Parker wheeled himself down the halls. At some point over the past week, someone had leaked the details of his schedule. Fortunately, his room number was still a relative secret, but until he got there…
“Please don’t,” he muttered under his breath, doing his best to ignore the commotion as his vision blurred from pain and exhaustion of yet another therapy session.
“We really must ask you to leave, sir,” a nurse said, glaring at the reporter.
“Mr. Jefferson, please, just a word on the current political landscape of--”
“My name ,” he snapped, wheeling (quite literally) on the reporter, “Is Parker Jones , and as a minor, I believe you have to gain permission from a parent or guardian to hold an interview with me. I may be incorrect, but do you really want to risk a lawsuit over an idiotic tabloid article?”
“Sir, please, he’s asked you to leave, and in the best interest of the patient--”
“I just have a couple of questions--”
“And I am telling you no . Good bye ,” Parker said with a sense of finality, even as he felt his stomach rolling with the familiar feeling of panic induced sickness.
This was the fifth time in two days he’d been cornered. It felt as if the world was shrinking around him, thrusting a spotlight upon him and shining it on each specific thing he wished to keep in the dark.
The world was getting smaller and his problems were getting bigger, and it seemed as if the latter was going to swallow the former completely until there was nothing around Parker besides guilt and shame.
OoOoO
Parker woke up on top of the science worksheet he was trying to get through. It was the third time that day he'd fallen asleep on top of his work. He did his best to convince himself that this was okay.
That he was okay.
OoOoO
Parker was wheeled out of the hospital four days later, already dressed in a pair of purple skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. James was doing his best to push him with his one good arm, much to Parker’s chagrin, as Ms. Jones loaded his things into the car.
“How’re feeling?” James asked quietly.
“Relieved, mostly,” Parker replied, “I’m out of this hellhole.”
“You still have to come back three times a week for therapy,” James reminded him.
“Don’t rain on my parade.”
“I’m actually kind of surprised,” James said offhandedly, “I… I thought there might be reporters or something.”
Parker stiffened in his wheelchair. “They didn’t tell anyone my discharge date,” he mumbled. “Mom asked them not to.”
“Hey, Parks?” James asked, walking around so that he was looking Parker in the eye.
“Yeah?”
James didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he leaned down and pressed the lightest of kisses to Parker’s brow.
“I’ve always wanted to do that. You’re just so damn tall,” he muttered.
“You’re going to be able to do that a lot more often, now,” Parker said, trying to keep the bitterness out of his voice.
“It’ll be okay though, alright? You’re-you’re going to get through this. We’re going to get through this. We’ve faced a lot together, you and I, and this isn’t going to be any different, you hear?” James said stubbornly.
“Of course,” Parker said with a small smile, “I wouldn’t expect anything else, Jem.”
“So long as I’ve made that clear.”
“You have. Believe me, you have.”
James smiled again and leaned down to gently press his lips to Parker’s. “Well then,” he said, “Better get you in the car, yeah? Get you to your adoring public. I think Alex and Laf and Pegs have put together some kind of ‘Welcome Home’ party that I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you about. You can show off your new wheels.”
“You mean, I can kick Alexander’s ass when he inevitably challenges me to a ‘foot race’,” Parker said with air quotes and a roll of his eyes. Alexander hadn’t been very secretive about his plans.
“Of course,” James agreed, “Wouldn’t be a party without you kicking Alex’s ass somehow .”
“I guess we’d better get going, then,” Parker said, wheeling himself the rest of the way to the car.
Despite their best efforts to pretend otherwise, he knew things weren’t going to ever go back to ‘normal’.
Maybe they wouldn’t ever go back to normal , but they could get better .
They at least had to hope.