Not So Empty
Fandom: The OC
Pairing: Jimmy/Hailey
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Up to The Ties That Bind
Notes: For the LiveJournal writers choice “empty” challenge. Sucky title, which I reserve the right to change!
Jimmy sits on the stripped-down bed, back
to the door, staring at the mural on the wall, the lights of
But now, his beautiful daughter has been blackmailed into living with his ex-wife and her new husband. So he finds himself sitting in her empty room, wishing that it was that impersonal shell again, because maybe, just maybe, then he wouldn’t miss her so much. As it is though, her personality is imprinted on every inch of the place, reminding him of just what he’s lost.
A light knock on the doorframe interrupts his thoughts, but he doesn’t turn around, knowing already who it is. “Hey,” Hailey says tentatively, and he hears her approaching him, but doesn’t turn around, doesn’t speak. “There’s coffee made downstairs,” she tells him as she comes around beside him, and from the corner of his eye, he can see that her eyes are wary, hands jammed into the back pocket of her jeans, elbows flexing, a sure sign of her anxiety. “And I thought you might be hungry…”
The mere thought of food made his stomach roil, and he wrinkles his nose. “Nah,” he says, shaking his head.
Hailey’s forehead creased in a frown, and she bites her bottom lip. Her shoulders rise and fall in a deep breath, and when she speaks, her voice is more worried than he’s ever heard it. “Is there anything I can do?” she asks.
Again, he shakes his head, because Marissa is going to live with Julie and Caleb and there’s nothing she, or anyone, can do about it. “I’m fine,” he tells her, even though he’s not, and they both know it, and her face contorts into a grimace. She doesn’t call him on it though. Instead, she just sighs, sinking down on the bed, arranging herself on it so that she is slightly behind him, legs curled up underneath her. Her left arm goes around his neck, her right around his waist, and she rests her cheek against the back of his right shoulder, another sigh tickling his skin.
He expects her to speak, waits for it, but she is strangely silent, and, acting of their own accord, his hands move, reaching to cover hers, and his head turns so that his cheek can just about make contact with the top of her head. The arm that’s around his waist tightens almost imperceptibly, and he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, hoping that it will vanquish the lump in his throat.
“She’s wrong, you know.”
He’s surprised at the words, even more at the fact that he’s the one who spoke, and if Hailey’s voice is any indication, she’s surprised too. “Who is?”
“Julie.”
There’s a hastily stifled snort from behind him, and her head moves so that her chin is resting on his shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me that,” she replies, and against all odds, he finds himself smiling, especially when she continues, “But is this about something in particular, or are we still talking in general?”
She’s teasing, he can tell, trying to draw him out of his dark mood, but he’s not in a mood for frivolity. “About what she said about us.”
“Oh.”
Hailey’s voice is very quiet all of a sudden, and he realises too late that they really should have had this conversation before, like the second they got back from Julie’s new house. Instead, he’d let it slide, hoping that his actions, the way he looked at her, would be enough to let her know how wrong Julie had been. Now, feeling her arms slacken slightly around him, almost able to sense her pulling away from him, he turns, using one hand to prop him up on the bed, the other going to her hip.
“I’m not with you because you’re some kind of Kirsten substitute,” he tells her. “I’m with you because you’re you.”
She’s staring into his eyes as he talks, her face a mask of concentration. He gets the feeling that she’s trying to catch him out, is waiting for him to slip, so he doesn’t look away from her, doesn’t break their gaze. He’s rewarded by the red that floods her cheeks, the sparkle in her eyes, the sassy smile that warms him from the inside out. “I knew that,” she says, and he chuckles, drawing her into a hug, and he almost, almost, misses what she whispers next. “But it’s nice to hear you say it.”
He grips her tightly, a drowning man clinging on to a life raft, and in the empty room that once belonged to his daughter, the empty room that had been depressing the hell out of him only minutes before, Jimmy Cooper smiles a real and genuine smile.
The room might be empty, but his heart is full.