Chapter 21: James

James's eyes opened to the early late September sun. He looked at the side table and noted the three sandalwood cones that were burned through last night when his nightmares came back. Trixie woke with him and set up his coping scents. He no longer fought against his nightmares. He was still afraid of what he could become at any moment, of becoming too angry and losing too much control. But his life right now, the peace he felt day to day, was worth fighting for.

A breeze came in through the window, catching James's attention and bringing him back to the present. It was still warm enough to sleep with the windows open, something he hadn't done since before he was shipped off for Italy with the 107. The morning breeze fluttered at the curtains and he felt Trixie stirring next to him. Trixie went back to work a few weeks ago, and they only woke this way on weekends now. He relished in her presence and the peace of the morning.

"Good morning," she stretched, feeling him awake beside her. She rolled over and faced him. "I'm starting to get spoiled with how often I get to wake up with you right here." She smiled at him genuinely, "I'm glad you're sleeping better."

A flash of darkness passed over James's face as he listened to cars pull in and out of the parking lot. Something was off. Some deeply buried Winter instinct kicked on and told him something was coming. He had a knot in his stomach; things were too perfect to last and good things never lasted for him. This time would be different. He would fight for this happiness tooth and nail. This time he was in control of his life, rather than being controlled by those around him.

James quieted his mind and listened again. One car arrived, the engine never shut off. A door opened and closed and that same car drove away. A second car parked closer and less elegantly. The engine cut off and a door opened and slammed. James slinked out of the bed and crept on the balls of his feet to the window. He didn't see anything too out of place, but something had him on edge.

"James?" Trixie whispered from the bed, "James, you're scaring me."

He ignored her, his instinct kicking in. He silently crossed the room and looked down the hallway. His hands were clenched at his side. He made his way to the back kitchen window, but didn't see anything there either. He was about to cross back to the front door when he realized what struck a nerve about the mystery car: the front plate was the wrong color.

James went back into the bedroom, his eyes wild. "Does she know you live here?" he whispered. Trixie's face blanched; she didn't have to ask who "she" was. Trixie nodded. "Does she know what car you drive?" James pressed. Trixie shook her head. "Good. We'll use that to our advantage." He sat across from her on the bed. "I've got this. Whatever you do, don't leave this room."

James pulled on a pair of jeans and a grey t-shirt. He didn't bother with his coat. Intimidation was good, recognition would be better. He went back to the window and looked at the car. A pale woman with stringy hair was scowling at a sliver of paper and then looked up and scowled at the buildings. He crossed the bedroom again and closed the door behind him.

He stepped outside and feigned walking to get the paper. Typically they brought it in for their elderly neighbor, but usually not this early. His ruse worked, as the woman stomped over in his direction. At 15 yards away, he could already smell the cheap booze seeping from her pores.

"Morning," he said plainly, squeezing the newspaper. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for seventee-tho-seven," she slurred.

"Well, this is building 1700 and I live in apartment 7. But I don't know you, so, once again, how can I help you?"

"That's stupid chit move-th and didn't thell me," she responded, skipping over the assumption that Trixie and James could live together. Internally, James reeled at the silent accusation that this woman saw her daughter as unloveable and undesirable. She jumped to moving out before she could fathom someone else moving in.

"Who?" James prodded. He squeezed the paper again and could feel it shred in his left hand. He'd buy a fresh copy later.

"Beatrith," she slurred, spitting out the word as if it disgusted her.

James felt the bile rise in him, as he said, "I don't know anyone who goes by that name." Not a full lie, he thought to himself.

"You're hiding thomthing," she slurred, stumbling closer. "I don't like you."

"Most folks don't," James retorted.

"You leth me inside!" she demanded. Then, she yelled, "Help! This man haves my daughter! Help!" She smiled a snake-like smile.

The little asthmatic boy that lives above them, who reminded James of a young Steve, came to the front window, curiosity at the ruckus getting the best of him. "Hi, James!" he called down. James smiled at the boy- and his timing. He lifted his left hand and gave him a wave.

Trixie's mom stepped back, eyes wide. "You're not fuyee hoomin!" Louder again, "Help!"

James took a step towards her, his hands balled in fists and his vision becoming blurred. He was losing control, and that frightened Winter back down and James back up.

"Mom" went to scream again, but the noise was caught in her throat when Alpine walked between James's feet. She looked up at "mom" and hissed. "Devil beast!" The woman called backing away. Alpine hissed again. She turned and ran to her car, starting the engine and driving away.

James knew in his gut she'd be back. Bullies didn't give up that easily. Trixie had been taking away her power, bit by bit. There was only one level left. His hands shook at the thought of encountering the woman again. He balled his fists until his nails painfully pushed into his right palm. He was again shaken from his trance with a rub against his pantleg. James scooped up Alpine and headed back inside.

As soon as he closed the front door, the scent of sandalwood hit him. He inhaled deeply and steadied himself for the state he may find Trixie in. He inhaled again and shook out his hands, making sure he was fully himself.

He opened the bedroom door to find Trixie in a meditation seat, but still in control of her emotions. He sat down next to her and took her hand in his.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I wanted to defend you, to convince her how wonderful you are, but that would give away that you were inside."

"I appreciate you covering for me," she said softly. After a pause, she added, "I don't want to be here anymore. I want to run away. It's my instinct- when it comes to fight to flight, I run like hell."

James easily responded, "We're moving, gone today. I'll make a few calls and we'll find a temporary place. She'll be back. I can't be here."

Trixie looked over at him and realized his hands were still shaking. Alpine padded over to James and curled at his feet. "Hero cat," Trixie smiled through her concern.

After the incense stick burned down, James arranged for storage for his bike. Trixie packed as much as they could into bags, taking enough belongings for two weeks. James pulled his go bag, still always at the ready, from the back of the closet. Trixie also packed a bag that would help her feel rooted.

"And where, exactly, are we going?" Trixie asked. She emailed her principal notification of a medical sabbatical, effective immediately.

"Someplace safe. Someplace where they can't deny us and she can't step foot on site."