Brandy's II, by Sheryl Martin

Please Archive anywhere... grin...

All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No
infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court...
I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh...

Comments, complaints and just plain talk to smartin@goodmedia.com

Summary: A bartender and another drunk...
Spoilers: none
Rating: Story, G... maybe a bit angsty but a  lot o'fluff...

Brandy's II
by Sheryl Martin

My wife is the one who thought of the name Brandy's. I told her it sounded
like one of those places where they served you on plates that cost more
than the food.

She won, of course.

As usual.

So I'm standing there behind the bar last night when Spooky and Nails walk
in; strolling by me as they head for their booth. He gives me a kinda
sheepish look, like we've been gossiping about his date in the locker room.

She doesn't even blink.

As usual.

That's Nails for you. Doesn't flinch, doesn't blink. Though I suspect that
Spooky knows what breaks that face down.

But that's another story.

So they disappear into the booth just around the corner and I go back down
and fill up Iron Steve's coffee cup with another shot of whiskey and don't
think anymore about it.

Then the Canuck walks in; coming up to the bar.

Iron Steve glances at her, makes a cute smacking sound with his lips while
hiding behind me for another refill.

I shake my head. Don't want to have to order in another set of beer
glasses too soon.

It's hell on the budget. Even if she does pay.

Pulling out the bottle of Southern Comfort; I fill up the glass with ice
and her usual.

"Hey..." I jerk my head towards the booth. "They're here."

"Yah." She smiles, looking at the bottle. "Wanna give them a few minutes
before I ride on in. Besides, I'm early."

Nodding, I slide the glass over. "Yah. Been in a lot lately."

"It's a Good Thing." She says it with the capitals. "About bloody time."

I ignore Iron waving for an intro at the opposite end of the bar. "You
have much to do with that?"

She laughs. "Nah. Not for a lack of wanting, tho..." Finishing off the
first drink, she reaches for the bottle.

I pull it back.

"Right..." Digging in a pocket she slides the keys across the bar. "Figure
you'll need a few cabs for us tonight. Been a rough week."

I nod. It's not my job to ask what they do. In Brandy's; that's just Not
Done.

"So..." I push the whiskey bottle down towards Steve who grabs at it like
a dying man at a preserver. "Figure it'll work?"

A shrug. "Depends." Poking a finger at a dying ice cube, she stares down.
"Heard once that ideally everyone gets the amount of love they deserve."

Chewing on my lower lip, I nod. Try not to glance back at Angie's picture
by the register. Don't want to go there.

Not this early in the night, anyway.

"Pretty wise."

"Yah." She drains the glass; lets me refill it. "Got it from a girl who
was in my class at the Academy." Rolling the drink around in her hand, she
starts talking to the S.C.

"She had been dating this guy for a few years; pretty serious. Well, on
her part - you know, marriage and the entire thing. He didn't even flinch
when she joined up, if you can believe that."

"Possible." I move the bottle under the bar for the sake of temptation.

"So she's pretty serious and talking marriage and all that and he's saying
nothing to her. And of course eventually they break up and it's a pretty
good thing, ya know?"

"Good?"

She waves a hand in the air. "Not much of a fight. Not like most couples."
The Canuck snorts into the glass. "Broke a guy's nose once in something
like that."

This doesn't surprise me, for some reason.

"Anyway, she tells me that she's fine with it; he's fine with it; they're
both dating other people and darned friendly about it. You know, phone
calls and just nice stuff."

"That's pretty rare."

"Kinda like dragons..." Flopping a hand down under the counter, she grabs
the neck of the bottle before I can beat her to it. "Don't be a tease..."

Chuckling, I refill her drink and drop the keys in the bucket. Going to be
pretty full tonight, if she's any indication of the crowd.

"So they meet now and then and he's telling her that he's getting on with
her life; he's happy. And she's happy that he's happy and all that crap.
You know, she loved him enough to want him happy and all that."

I'm not going to correct her grammar.

Another poke at an ice sliver. "And one week he asks her to call her
Thursday night. Nothing special; just to call."

"And she didn't." Not that I'm trying to rush the story, but Iron Steve is
almost through the whiskey.

"She was studying with me. Big test." Pressing the cool glass to her
forehead, she chuckled. "We forgot. Just plumb forgot."

"And?"

The Canuck looks at me like I've already told the punch line to her joke.

"He killed himself that night. Right after she should have called him."

I refill the glass this time before she can get to it. Her hands are
already about to shatter the glass, her knuckles white.

"And then the bastard sends her a note. Well, it was in his room; under
the pillow that he put his head down before taking the drugs and booze."

Another deep swallow.

"A long, rambling note where he tells her that he's sorry, but he never
loved her as much as she loved him. And that he hopes that someone comes
along who'll love her as much as she deserves."

I don't know what to say, so I nod.

And top the glass off.

"It's a bit heavy." She mumbles into the bar. "As much as you deserve.
Takes a bit of thinking."

I nod again, ignoring Iron Steve.

Besides, the coffee pot's right beside him.

"So you think you understand what he meant?" I prompt, knowing that if I
don't send her over to Spooky and Nails soon; I'm going to have a crier on
my hands.

And I hate that.

Brings the entire bar down.

Not that she's been responsible for that before.

But she pays.

The Canuck rolls a mouthful of S.C. around for a second before replying.
"I think I do." Picking up the bottle, she hops off the stool. "Figure
that's what these two need, anyway. As much love as they deserve."

I pause before asking, knowing that I already know the answer.

"Hey..."

She turns, a bit unsteady on her feet.

"How's your friend doing? Something like that's gotta be a heavy thing to
carry..."

Her eyes meet mine and I know what she's thinking. Seen it before in my
buddies after a bad patrol.

Then she closes them; putting the bottle to her forehead in a mock
benediction of some sort.

"Some nights she's fine. And some nights she wakes up crying and screaming
until her fiance grabs ahold of her and tries to convince her that the
call wouldn't have made a difference."

Taking a breath, the Canuck forces a smile onto her face.

"But she's okay."

I watch her disappear behind the corner; hear her jolly voice roll over
Spooky and Nails.

"Hey..." Iron Steve is on his third cup of coffee in his coffee cup. "I
need something a bit stronger..."

And I walk down and pull out another bottle for him.

After all, he loves his whiskey.

Wonder if it's all he deserves.

**************

"You are my one in five billion..." Mulder to Scully