You're Always You

Chapter Twenty-Nine

David Minett

Considering both David and Monica were used to working nights, instead of days, it ended up making them more night owls than either of them were used to. And this was fine for Monica, who was used to that.

But David was a morning person, so having his schedule rocked like this the past week was...rough.

Though...at the moment, he was pretty sure he was grateful for that.

He couldn't help but look over as Monica answered her phone happily, which told him it was likely Lydia. Her happy expression very soon dropped, and she looked over at her brother in concern. "Yeah...." she said into the phone. "Why, is everything okay?" To David, she mouthed for him to unlock the door.

He did so, getting up off the couch and unlocking the door.

"No, yeah, don't worry about it. Lydia, it's fine."

Dave turned on the porch light as his sister gave Lydia their address, and though he didn't move, he looked back at her with furrowed brows, waiting for her to hang up the phone. When she did, he said, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know," Moni replied, looking worried. "She just said she was at the club, and she needed a bed, she didn't....She just started crying, I...."

....

"...Did she ever mention to you whether she...had permission to go tonight?" Dave questioned, frowning. Lydia had mentioned that Dick never gave her permission to go to museums, and while Dave didn't think she should need permission, that...was her reality right now. And doing things without Dick's permission was probably dangerous.

Monica shook her head. "No, she didn't...really mention him at all. She just said Sasha would cover her shift...." She lifted her eyes up from their worried stare at the floor to gaze at her brother. "You don't think...?"

He turned his own gaze upon the window beside the door, waiting for Lydia to arrive out front.

He did think.

"I'll go fix up Brett's old room," his sister murmured, getting up and heading down the hall.

David merely hummed in response. After a little bit of time, a car pulled up out front, and he opened up the front door, gazing out the secondary glass one as Lydia exited what appeared to be an Uber or Lyft and made her way up the path, her head down and her shoulders tight. She looked up when she arrived at the door, and seemed surprised to find it open and David staring back at her. He pushed open the glass door to let her in, and she shuffled her way inside with a mumbled thanks. Once she was in, he shut and locked the doors again.

Hearing the doors, Monica emerged from the hall and came towards Lydia with arms outstretched. "Hey," she said, concern in her voice. "What happened, are you okay?"

"...I'm fine," the other woman murmured, hugging Monica.

She was not fine. Lydia only ever said she was fine when she wasn't. David knew that posture, those tight shoulders, gaze glued downward, and he knew that something was definitely definitely wrong. This was to Lydia as was black coffee to David.

"You're not," he spoke up without hesitation, putting his arm around her opposite the side Monica had done, and the two of them brought her to sit on the couch. Dave then grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders, since that always helped her feel better, feel safe. It would've helped if he could hold her, too, but that wasn't happening. Safety blanket would have to do.

And she seemed to appreciate it, taking the ends and pulling it around herself. "...I'm okay," she insisted, still keeping her head down, and her hair firmly framing her face, which struck David. "Really. Just...need a place to sleep."

"Davie...." Monica murmured, glancing towards the kitchen subtly.

Go away.

Right. Lydia wasn't...going to just talk to him as freely as she used to. She was probably more comfortable with Moni, as painful as that was, so he nodded his head in agreement. The man refrained from kissing his wife's temple, but rubbed her back softly as he stood up, before moving into the kitchen.

Where he was out of sight, but certainly not out of earshot.

"Lydia, it's okay," Monica said once her brother was gone. "...Did Richie kick you out? What happened?"

"No....I was...trying to sleep in the club. Richie told the guards not to let me inside...."

"Okay, but...why?"

"He...." Lydia mumbled, her voice having grown softer and softer. David held his breath just so he wouldn't miss a word. She remained silent for a good while, before finishing, "...He hit me."

Oh.

Oh.

Oh you're a dead motherfucker Dickie.

"Where does he live," David said, exiting the kitchen.

"...W–what?" Lydia spoke up in confusion, watching him head for the front door again.

When he looked back at her, she had lifted her head enough for him to get a proper look at her face, and noticed the angry red handprint on her cheek; the opposite side Monica sat, which was likely why she hadn't noticed.

"Where does he live," David repeated, grabbing his keys from the key rack by the door.

"David," Monica said, shaking her head. "Stop it. Put your keys down, get over here."

"No, I'll teach that fucker to hit a woman."

"David," Monica barked sternly. She was the youngest of the family, but she did tend to have the most attitude. Though, in this universe, she had Brett to contend with, the little thug.

The man gave a frustrated sigh and hung his keys back up. He'd find out later on his own. Shouldn't be that hard. He returned to sit on the loveseat instead of the couch, knowing that, after being hit, an angry man was probably the last person Lydia wanted sitting on the same piece of furniture as her.

And he was right, because she looked distressed. "...Maybe I shouldn't have come here...." she mumbled anxiously, gathering herself up. "I'm sorry."

"No no," Moni said, pulling the woman back down and replacing the blanket around her shoulders, hugging her. "Please, stay. It's fine. You stay as long as you need to, okay? You're perfectly safe here, Lydia."

David had half a mind to interject that he wasn't going to let her go back, but...he realized making himself look and sound like Dick right now wasn't helpful. Even if he was doing it to protect Lydia, and not oppress her.

Her nervous system wouldn't see a difference. Having been to war, he knew that well enough. David counted himself very lucky not to have come home with debilitating PTSD, and even though it was unlikely this would stick with Lydia like that, she was understandably fragile given it just happened.

Lydia didn't respond, but she didn't try to escape either, which was probably a good thing. David...wasn't sure.

He'd never had to coach his wife through abuse.

He was learning things about her he never wanted to learn. Never thought he'd have to learn. And that was...so sad.

Her reaction, her fear, calmed him well enough. In an effort to make peace, he stuck his hand out towards her, unobtrusively, subtly, and....She gazed at it for a moment, before holding it and letting him squeeze hers.