Tracy

044:

Michael hit the door to the police station, hit another button and asked to be allowed inside. Tracy followed, slowly, her breath coming out in short barely audible gasps. The hallway they waited in was dank, water marks pocked the edges of the green cement floor.
"Here to see Casey Crandall." Michael announced. Tracy shivered, her eyes alternately tearing up, so she had to wipe them.

Another door opened and a familiar face was ushered out. Tracy gave a glad cry and covering her mouth to stifle her sudden emotion, she rushed to Andrea Collier's arms. Ms. Collier was decadent in beige closed toe pumps, her business skirt and blazer accented with a deeply v-ed button down blouse, revealing several chains, all of which had pendants attached. Her nails were fake, far too long, and the color was a harsh red. It matched the wide grim expression she perpetually wore--- too red, too fake. And yet, she had been Bob Kelner's choice of a lawyer for ten years. And she had always, always done a good job, Tracy trusted her with her life.

It was beyond client counsel privilege to be hugging like this. Michael waited stoically for Tracy's sudden outburst to be finished, once again reminding himself of the volatile nature of this woman-child he was tied to--- as was Andrea. He blew out his breath and rocked back on his sandaled feet, his hands clasped behind his back.

A uniformed officer came and asked Andrea Collier the nature of their visit.

"There needs to be signed consent for Miss McCaffrey to file for permanent custody of Casey Crandall's child whom she is currently a legal guardian of."

The officer managed to nod as if this was perfectly acceptable. Tracy dried her eyes again, twisting a Kleenex in her fingers, ripping it to shreds, and stuffing the shreds in her pathetically twined palms. The three magnetic bracelets Dr. Armani had sent to her via overnight mail slipped down her wrists. These he hoped would help alleviate the effects of the current during high emotional distress. This qualified.

A door was buzzed open and they were led, minus Michael now, into a hospital white vinyl tiled hallway with green doors closed on either side. From the opposite end, an officer was leading Casey. Tracy seeing him gasped, and covered her lips once again, jerking away as Andrea clasped her arm. She staggered forward heedless of the rules and regulations. Her audible sobs tore into the silence.

Casey's eyes rose. He'd been shaved and his bare skull sported strange purplish black lesions behind his ears and on his face. He looked awful.

His gaze connected with hers and he nodded, his arms behind him, held immobile. She reached out to him and he shook his head as he was led into the room ahead of her.

It was sparse, very much like how the movies always portrayed it should be. Tracy was seated next to Andrea, across from Casey and his escort, a table between them.

"May we have a moment?" Tracy choked, her eyes heated and brimming. The officer nodded with a slight shrug.

She got up and slid around the table, her arms around him as she bit her lips to stop her crying. "I never wanted this for you, Case, never in my wildest dreams."

He nodded, turning into her familiar embrace. "Me neither, baby, I'm really sorry. I needed to tell you that I'm sorry."

"You're getting help? That's why you're still here, right? You're getting cleaned up?"

He leaned into her like a child would have. "That's the program, yeah."

"Why are you still locked up? I thought they said you were committed to the mental wing voluntarily?"

"No, it's not like that, I'm still having issues."

"What kind of issues, Case? You've gotta do whatever it takes to get out of here. You know I didn't press charges, right?"

"I shouldn't have hurt you. It's okay. I deserve it."

"Bridget and Julian are worried sick about you too. We all said when you get out we--we'll do some gigs, a reunion if that's what you want. Really, or just some gigs."

He nodded, his shaved head throwing her for a loop. Tracy returned to the seat allocated, her eyes filling once more. He hunched forward, refusing to look at her again.

"Here's the deal, guys, Tracy needs full custody of Danny, okay? I can't deal with him in this condition. He needs a better parent, and me and Jolie aren't fit. So I give up my rights, okay? My parents still have grandparent's rights, but he needs a good mother, and Tracy is that, and always has been." He was nodding as he spoke, not looking up, not looking at her, ashamed of his own behavior. Tracy's tears fell unheeded. "Also, Jolie and I have spoken, and if by some chance the baby she is carrying manages to survive her, we want Tracy to have him. It's a boy." He finally looked up at her. "They don't know if he'll make it, but we want you to have him. If he lives, we want to call him Steven after my grandpa."

Andrea was writing things in her notebook in a very relaxed business-like manner, but Tracy was streaming a steady flow of tears the whole intense situation more than she could deal with. Every memory, good and bad, of Casey, Danny, Jolie--everything was flashing in her mind like fireworks.

"Will you, Tracy? Adopt the baby if it lives?" This was Andrea, her pen poised to write her final answer.

"Oh, God, of course, he's mine, yes, of course." She choked and buried her face in her hands.

When she finally looked up, Casey had not looked at her, but his eyes were staring at the ceiling, filled to the brim with liquid of his own. He nodded once, blinked so that the tears that had gathered rained down both cheeks, and he finally looked at her, his gaze portraying far more than either of them could say.

"How long--how long do they say?" She felt like she was strangling on her own words.

He swallowed. "I'm real sick. It's not the virus, it's a secondary infection called Hepatitis C, it affects the blood, and the liver. But I have another thing too, Kaposi's Sarcoma. It's a cancer." He gulped air. "It's in my lungs and liver."

"And-- and Jolie has this too?" She gagged back a string of impossibly unbelievable words.

"She's infected with AIDS. I'm not sure if she has the Hep. We're supposed to go to San Francisco next week when I get out, if I get out." He glanced at the officer who nodded as if this might be a possibility.

Andrea finished writing and turned the papers to face Casey. "I'll need your signature."

He was loosened, and he took the pen, Tracy noticed more purple lesions on his hands, and shivered. Had he had those the last time she'd seen him? Was it progressing that fast? He was still walking. He was still talking, still lucid.

"Do you--- do you still want me to--- try and book a gig?"

"Are you willing to forgive me?"

"Don't be stupid, Case, you've been a jerk and I don't want to marry you, but yeah, you're still one of my best friends. I'll do whatever to make--to make your--your last days----." Andrea put her arm around her as Tracy shuddered to a halt, her eyes filled and staring at the ceiling.

She heard his sigh. "Too little too late." He said slowly, a soft self-deprecating chuckle erupted. "I didn't have it to give you, you know. You shine, Trace. You have far more than I ever let on."

"Don't give up, Case. Maybe----."

He was shaking his head. "I'm sorry to do this to you. We've all lost so much already. Just one more thing. Take care of Danny and Steven, will you? Tell them the good stuff, okay?" He laughed again and the officer in charge of him lifted him to his feet. He staggered once, and then straightened.

She couldn't speak, couldn't even gurgle out a kind reply. Her body tensed, and she managed to stand, at least show him that respect, although she felt overwhelmed with conflicting and confusing emotions.

Casey exited the way he'd come in.

******