AU Fic: Hellfire, Part 3

[cloversworld]

Title: HELLFIRE
Fandom: American Idol (Season 7)
Rating: PG-13
Warning: Death of some minor characters; swear words - lots of them
Read DISCLAIMER

Masterpost  |  Part 1  |  Part 2


3 –   
I have lost my belief



Cook’s neck felt a little stiff when he woke up. He had spent the night tossing and turning, trying to get some sleep, but he felt somehow elated. And he hadn’t noticed he was whistling when he made his way downstairs and went straight to the tiny café to grab a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Dave.” Lupe was the one behind the counter, and she had just finished talking to a couple of customers when Cook came in.

“Good morning.” Cook slid onto a stool, wondering whether he should ask where Archie was but he didn’t need to because Lupe was already telling him that she had sent Archie to deliver breakfast to Randy Jackson, who was entertaining guests that morning.

“What will you have?” Lupe shifted her gaze to the glass shelf above the counter and pushed a tray of pastries inside. Then her eyes returned to Cook, all soft and knowing.

Images of Archie pressed up against the wall, looking lascivious with his head thrown back and lips parted, invaded Cook’s thoughts. He could feel his cheeks burn, the heat spreading all the way to the back of his neck. Then guilt wormed its way to forefront of his mind.

“Just a cup of coffee please” was what Cook managed to say before tearing his eyes away from the mayor’s gaze and pretended to read the menu from the board hanging on the wall.

“What kind? Espresso? Latte? Java?” Lupe went on naming every coffee available and Cook’s eyes darted back to the woman and raised his hand in a gesture to stop her from prattling on.

“I’ll have regular coffee,” Cook said, and quickly added, “with cream and sugar, please.”

“David told me you were supposed to leave town yesterday.” Lupe grabbed a pot from behind her and poured coffee in the cup that she had placed before Cook.

Cook nodded, muttering, “Thanks,” when she handed him his coffee. He was adding some cream and sugar when he heard his name and turned his head slightly to see Ramiele ambling in, a notebook in one hand and a cellphone in the other.

“Simon has been looking for you.” Ramiele gabbled on without so much as a ‘good morning’ and went thumbing through the pages of her notebook. “He wants you to fly over Fuller’s Peak with Michael this morning.”

“I thought he wanted me off the fucking assignment,” Cook ground out, not meaning to be cold towards Ramiele. But she seemed unaffected since a nonchalant shrug was the only reaction she gave before turning to Lupe, who handed her a tray filled with cups, which Cook presumed contained coffee for the crew.

“You and Michael will be leaving in an hour” was all Ramiele said before walking out of the café.

A string of curses threatened to burst out of Cook’s mouth but he could feel Lupe’s eyes on him so Cook groaned in frustration instead.

“For all its worth, I’m glad you’re here.” Lupe said, taking on that familiar motherly tone Cook often heard from his own mom. And every negative feeling that was building up inside Cook dissipated. “By the way, how does lasagna sound to you?”

“For breakfast?” Cook pulled his brows together.

“For dinner.” The corner of Lupe’s mouth curled up, smiling warmly as she said, “I’m inviting you for dinner with the family. Tonight.”


=0=


Dinner. With the family. Cook had been perturbed with the thought of being around Archie’s family. This was something that he wouldn’t even be fretting over if this thing with Archie hadn’t started. He wasn’t even sure if they had officially started dating. But they had gone out and been intimate and, fuck, he was practically an inch away from crossing the line.

He wondered whether Lupe knew about him and Archie, and if she did, he dreaded what she might say about it. He knew he shouldn’t worry too much since Archie’s an adult and would be able to stand his ground.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re seriously focused on observing that mountain below us.” Michael’s voice cut through his musings. “But I know better so instead, I’m telling you that I think that kid’s got you wrapped around his finger, mate.”

“He’s not a kid, Mikey,” Cook said thoughtfully, not really caring if the whirring of the helicopter’s propeller drowned his voice.

“Whatever you say, mate.”

They spent half an hour flying above Fuller’s Peak and spent the other half on top of a leveled rock taking notes. It was early noon when they finally returned to the inn and had Chikezie run the readings that they were able to gather.

Despite the fact Cook was partially agitated; he got ready for dinner much earlier than he should have. He probably went through half of the wardrobe he’d brought before settling for a dark blue button down shirt and a pair of tight jeans.

Then he spent a good fifteen minutes or so in front of the mirror trying to tame his unruly hair until Archie showed up at his door and dragged him out saying, “You look a lot sexier with your hair tousled and all.”

Cook was too nervous to drive so Archie did instead. When they pulled up in front of Lupe’s house, Archie turned to him and laughed. “You look like you’re about to face final judgment or something.”

“That’s exactly what it feels like,” Cook said, sounding a little helpless.

“My family doesn’t bite, you know.” There was a playful edge in the way Archie spoke, but it migrated to worry when Cook refused to move from his seat. “Hey, what are you so worried about?”

Cook shook his head and began to say, “Nothing. Let’s just…” but the look on Archie’s face (like he’d been grounded for the rest of his life) left a pinch of guilt within Cook. So he heaved a sigh, took Archie’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Let’s get inside.” It proved to be a timely suggestion since Lupe chose to come out of the house at that time.

The dinner was relatively normal, like the ones Cook had with his own family whenever he was in Missouri to visit. Although, he couldn’t help but sense the indifference that was steaming out of Daniel, Cook managed to take it in stride and let the rest of the night flow naturally.

It was after dessert when Lupe came up to Cook, touched his arm lightly and said, “Do you mind if we talk in private?” Surprisingly though, Cook didn’t feel nervous, he was more relaxed than he had been before getting there.

They sat at the porch for a while, watching the dark clouds part like curtains to reveal thousands of stars that glimmered across the sky. “You know,” Lupe started, gazing down at her hands that were resting on her lap before clearing her throat before and adding, “when David came out to us just last year, I was probably the least bit surprised. Because I knew… somehow it felt like I’ve always known, and I was just waiting, you know.” Lupe shifted in her seat to face Cook slightly. “Waiting and hoping that my son would find the courage to peel away the mask that society had forced on him and just… just be himself; comfortable in his own skin.”

All the qualms that had been clawing at Cook’s sanity evaporated. He had a sudden flash of his own past, images rolling in his mind – his teenage self curled up in his mother’s embrace while he spilled out his deepest, darkest secret and his mom stroked his hair, whispering words of assurance and telling him that she loved him no matter what.

“My mom must’ve felt the same way” were the words that came tumbling out of Cook’s mouth, only half aware he had just confessed indirectly that he was in the same league as David.

“I can’t speak for all mothers,” Lupe said, reaching out to tuck perhaps an invisible stray strand of hair behind Cook’s ear. “But some mothers – those sensitive enough to their children’s feelings and needs – would see the truth with their hearts.”

“How did…” Cook bit on his tongue, knowing that it wasn’t his place to ask, but he was just curious. He attempted to take a detour, to say something else, but his mind was set to ask, “How did Jeff react?”

“Oh he was furious.” The soft glow in Lupe’s eyes faltered, like she was also seeing images from the past. “He was the one who pushed David to reveal his true nature to everyone in the family. But David had already told me before that.”

It was stepping way over the line for Cook to pry for more but before he could grasp proper etiquette, he heard himself ask, “What happened?” Then, fuck; he mentally berated his self.

Lupe didn’t seem to mind though, because she opened up, telling Cook about the time when Archie decided to leave their church and Jeff found out. “Jeff asked David about it, forced a reason out of him. Of course, when Archie told him the truth, Jeff… well, he just lost it.” And Lupe recounted how Jeff ended up throwing painful words at their son until Lupe could no longer stand it. “Well, the argument spiraled from one thing to another, reopening wounds and gradually led to the divorce.”

After Lupe had practically shared half of their family’s story, Cook felt compelled to share his own, when Lupe began asking things like “have you ever been married?”

“No ma’m,” Cook said in answer and explained that he traveled a lot, even before he completed his studies, so it was difficult to keep a relationship. “Hawaii, Colombia, Indonesia, Philippines,” he had rambled on when Lupe asked what places he’d been to outside the U.S. “I’ve been thrown to places where ever there’s a volcano with issues.”

They must have talked for more than an hour. Cook lost track of time. If Lupe hadn’t checked her watch, gasped and said, “Oh my, it’s pretty late. I’m expecting some investors from New York early tomorrow,” they wouldn’t have moved from their comfortable spot. But before they could return inside the house, Lupe laid her palm on Cook’s forearm and said, “You’re a good man, Cook. I think David chose well.”


=0=



=0=


In the next week, Archie got into a routine of bringing coffee and sandwiches to Cook and his team every morning. He had befriended everyone, even Simon, who wasn’t too stiff all the time. Since Archie hadn’t planned anything for his spring break, he decided to stick around and perhaps learn something new everyday.

“So. What do these squiggly lines mean?” Archie pointed at a long, continuous paper that was rolling out from a machine. Lines – straight ones, curved and zigzagged ones – were printed on it.

“Those readings indicate microquakes that our seismometers have picked up,” Jason explained, adding that they had been able to record fifty to seventy-five microquakes daily. Omigosh.

“Well, well. Lookie here. Seacrest has arrived.” Chikezie’s eyes were on one of the monitors that showed a yellow pick-up track pulling into the parking lot in front of the inn.

Archie followed Jason and Chikezie outside, where they found Cook standing at the back of the yellow truck, peeling away a gray cloak from whatever it was underneath it.

Michael hopped onto the vehicle, despite of Carly’s warning that he might twist his ankle (again), and helped Cook remove the cover. Soon, Archie was staring up at something that closely resembled R2D2 from the Star Wars movie. “Uhm…”

“Arch, meet Seacrest. That’s S-E-A-C-R-E-S-T actually.” Then Cook began to tell Archie what the acronym meant but Archie was too busy watching the robot thing descend from the truck’s rear to the ground, with Jason and Chikezie guiding it. Cook jumped down, dusted his hands and slung an arm around Archie’s shoulder.

Curiosity was nudging at Archie’s hindbrain. He looked around him and skimmed through the faces of Cook’s teammates before his gaze fell back on the robot – S.E.A.C.R.E.S.T. Archie gave an almost embarrassing squeak when the thing lurched forward and started moving. “What uhm… what does that thing do exactly?”

“It picks up any changes in the air and on the ground,” Michael began, “like changes in temperature or the slightest shift of rocks beneath the ground, or… it can do almost anything, mate.”

“Yeah. Except think on its own,” Carly pointed out, her eyes glinting with mischief when Michael got all defensive over the, uhm, Seacrest.

Then Archie just sort of mumbled, “What does Seacrest mean again?” and was bemused when Cook started laughing. Or more like chuckling, because it was all soft and… and—

“You totally weren’t listening, man.” Cook’s hands were coiled around the back of his neck, his palm all warm and – oh gosh – and Cook’s thumb, rough but… but nice, rubbing against his nape, making Archie feel dazed and tingly all over.

So David kind of forgot to ask what S.E.A.C.R.E.S.T stood for or maybe Cook had repeated it but Archie wasn’t totally paying attention. Curious enough, Archie watched them work with the robot over the next couple of days, and Michael told him (quite enthusiastically, might he add) that they were going to like, bring Seacrest over the mountain.

On the day S.E.A.C.R.E.S.T was supposed to, uhm, make his debut and Michael was ‘preparing’ him (which totally sounded, oh gosh, dirty the way Michael had said ‘preparing’ in this deep voice while wiggling his eyebrows at Cook, who kept laughing and laughing and Archie thought his, uhm, boyfriend had gone crazy), the robot decided to make weird movements like he was malfunctioning or something.

The rest of Cook’s teammates gathered around, and Ramiele, while chewing on the non-writing end of her pen, just blurted, “That’s some of piece of junk.”

“No, no, no.” Michael had his hand raised like he was ready to defend the robot. “I think I know what’s wrong.” Then he had a finger pointing downward, drawing a circle in the air while saying, “Turn around everyone.” And when Cook said his name – Michael’s name – in this reprimanding, serious tone, Michael just shrugged. “I know what I’m doing, Cook. Just… turn around, mate.”

But no one really moved, so Archie just watched Michael pull out something – like a metal backpack – from behind S.E.A.C.R.E.S.T and dropped the thing (which looked really heavy) on the table beside him. Archie saw something painted on top of the pack and it read: R.Y.A.N. Underneath it was, Archie guessed, what each letter stood for, written in smaller fonts: Remote Ybit Advanced Navigator.

“You’re out of your mind Michael.” The sound of Carly’s voice pulled Archie out of his trance. “NASA’s gonna have your pretty little ass if they find out.”

“IF. They find out,” Michael said with a little more stress on ‘if’. “But none of us will tell, right?”

“We’ll have to take Seacrest up to the mountain.” Cook’s breath brushed against the side of Archie’s face. “I guess I’ll see you later.”


=0=


“So you finally found the balls to tell the kid you like him. Glad to see you didn’t hold back this time, like you did with Andy.” Michael’s voice rang, reverberating within the hollow of Cook’s eardrums. Or maybe it was the pressure from being up on the mountain. “So tell me, have you finally gotten laid, mate?”

“Fuck off. That’s none of your fucking business” was Cook’s noncommittal response while trying to concentrate on guiding S.E.A.C.R.E.S.T down the rocky terrain using a remote control.

Michael let out a bark of laughter that sounded mocking and pesky. “Well, have you?”

Cook could only sigh, knowing that his friend wouldn’t drop the subject. So he shook his head and hissed his reply. “No.”

“What? Oh Come on.” And Michael went on with his lengthy lecture of how, maybe, Cook was doing it wrong and gave some silly suggestions on how to coax Archie into doing it; his Australian drawl becoming thick in Cook’s ears.

A good retort was swirling in Cook’s mind. Something to remind Michael that he himself had most likely been lacking sex since he got divorced more than a year ago. But instead, the words that went past his lips were “oh shit.”

The robot had stopped moving.

“I think it’s stuck” was Michael’s observation. “I’m going down to check.”

“No, wait. Are you insane?” Cook gazed down the slope. It was too steep to climb down, too dangerous. But before he could stop Michael, his friend was already making his way down, gripping tightly on the rope that was attached to his waist. “Fine. Just…” Cook grabbed the other end of the rope and carefully eased Michael down. “Just be careful.”

“What’s going on there?” Simon’s voice came through the handheld radio that Cook practically forgot was hanging against his hip. Cook grabbed the radio and gave Simon a brief rundown of the situation. “Be careful, you two.” The genuine concern that twined in every word Simon had uttered sounded alien to Cook’s ears, so Cook was consciously aware that he sounded impassive when he responded.

“We will.”

Michael had finally reached the spot where the robot had stopped. And Cook being used to Michael’s not-so-gentle treatment to any technological stuff, just watched Michael kick the poor thing.

The radio hissed. But Cook barely heard what Simon said. “I’m sorry, Simon, you’re breaking up.” Cook spoke into the device.

Simon’s voice came through it once more but his words were broken by the annoying scratchy sound they usually hear whenever there was a strong electronic interference or something. Listening closely, Cook realized Simon seemed to be repeating the same phrase over and over and Cook did his best to string Simon’s words together but all he could come up with were “get out” and “there” and “seismic vibration” and “your way”.

Before Cook could determine what Simon was trying to say, he heard the rumbling from the higher peak and felt the vibration beneath his feet. Then a small quake hit, but he and Michael were right in the epicenter. Cook lost his balance and fell butt first on the ground. He thought he heard Michael yell, as if in pain.

When the shaking stopped, Cook looked down to see boulders of rock on the spot where he last saw Michael. “Mikey!”

Cook hooked the radio back on his belt, grabbed the rope and tied it around his waist; then began descending, ignoring Simon’s holler, demanding to report about their current situation. Once he’d reached the cluster of rocks, he could hear Michael groaning. “Mikey! Talk to me, buddy.”

“Fuck. Remind me never to do this again” came Michael’s muffled voice.

There were a thousand versions of ‘I-told-you-so’s’ running in Cook’s head at the time but what came out was “are you okay?” Which was probably the silliest question because…

“I think my leg’s broken,” Michael responded, anyway. Then he moaned through gritted teeth when he grabbed his leg and tried to pull it out from under a rock.

“Wait, no, let me,” Cook said and he started clearing the area around Michael, lifting rocks, some were light enough but some were as heavy as the weights he sometimes used at the gym.

Simon’s voice floated from the radio. Cook snatched it off from his belt and blurted, “Simon, Michael’s hurt, send the chopper quick.”

Cook dared to look at Michael’s leg, lifting the fabric of his pants carefully and saw the skin all bloody with a gash probably half a foot long. Cook winced. He wasn’t really fond of seeing blood but he just learned to endure it over the years.

“So about the kid” were the next words Michael blundered out and Cook just shook his head but gave in. They talked about Archie, anything to keep Michael’s mind off his injured leg while they waited for the helicopter to rescue them.


=0=


Cook had not forgotten how the minor quake felt, like the earth was trying to communicate with him. And his damn instinct had been working overtime, making him restless and agitated.

Not even the doctor’s assurance that Michael would be all right was enough to placate the uneasy feeling that made Cook’s heart thump wildly against the walls of his chest.

“We just had to fix a few nerves before stitching him up, but other than that, there’s nothing else to worry about.” The doctor’s words floated around Cook’s conscious mind. “He might have to keep his leg in a cast for six months at the most.” The doctor continued to give him and Simon the gist of Michael’s condition.

When the doctor left them at the hallway, just outside Michael’s hospital room, Cook hung on to every thread of desperation and told Simon, “We have to put this town on alert, Simon. You should have heard the way that volcano rumbled.” But Simon was already shaking his head. “Please, Simon, think about it. Try to consider starting an evacuation plan for those within a ten kilometer radius.”

“What happened isn’t enough to raise an alarm, Dave. We have no reasonable evidence to start a systematic evacuation yet.” Simon insisted and when Cook pressed on, Simon simply shook his head resolutely and left.

Cook returned to Michael’s room deep in thought. He couldn’t explain it, not even to himself. But there was something about Fuller’s Peak that bothered him. The feeling boiled within his stomach, churning, rising up to his chest and it was stuck there like a giant fist, making it hard for him to breathe. Damn, he hated his instinct, hated the fact that people around him refused to heed his warnings. Sometimes he thought it was best to keep it to himself, let it eat away his sanity.

The thought was unsettling though. The mountain seemed harmless but knowing what was going on underneath it suggested otherwise. It was too… deceiving.

“Coo-oook.” The sound of his friends’ voices singing out his name… or last name… reminded Cook where he was.

A sigh rose from Cook’s chest. He contemplated on whether to get his friends involved for about five seconds before he spoke. “Guys, I need your help to convince Simon that he really should put this town on alert.” He thought he sounded convincing enough, but doubted if he did the moment he saw Carly shaking her head.

“I hate to say this, Cook, but Simon’s right.” Carly sat on the edge of Michael’s bed. “The signs we’ve seen so far aren’t enough to suggest that this volcano will erupt soon. It’s possible, yes. But it may take years.“

“I’m afraid Carly has a point.” It was a bit surprising that Jason was sharing his opinion, but he still couldn’t look straight into Cook’s eye. “One thing we can’t risk is raising a false alarm.”

Cook couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For the past days, he was sure he had Carly and Jason agreeing with his theories. The chain of frustration that Simon had wrapped around his neck was nothing compared to how he felt right at that moment. He could feel the beginnings of shoulder pains.

“Don’t fret, mate.” There wasn’t the usual mocking timbre when Michael spoke. “I still believe you. I was up there with you, don’t forget. I’ll talk to Simon as soon as I get out of this depressing place.”

So Michael did speak with Simon a day later but he apparently got the same answer. Michael didn’t make it easy for Simon though. Cook should know because he heard Michael and Simon argue about it, their voices resounded from the den and could clearly be heard from the café where Cook and the others settled after they were asked to leave the room.

The pressure was giving Cook a nasty headache. But he was glad that Archie was always around. Archie’s touches surely brought him relief, made every nerve in his body relax.


continued on Part 4