Chapter 20: Six Years Advanced

It's been six years since Cory refused to return home, turning his back on his past. After signing a new contract a year earlier to continue his medical training, he's had to make the transition from working in a traditional M.A.S.H. hospital to a larger more secure military field hospital, now called a cash, or C.S.H.

Cory's worked hard and is now a sergeant, working swing shifts when casualties roll in around the clock. He's earned the respect of his commanding officers, who helped him with his studies to receive his regent degree through a partnership with the University of Northern Carolina State.

"Cory, need you to take the graveyard watch tonight. After finals, I need to you to monitor Private Dill's condition. IED did a number on his abdomen."

Rotating his eyes away from this screen, he replies quickly, "Yes, Captain I got it—night watch."

Once the sun sets, Cory takes his place going over charts during bed check to help the nurses.

"Thanks, Sergeant. You're a sweetheart. Wanna get a drink tomorrow or something?" the newest nurse to his unit asks.

The other nurses snicker, knowing she's about to get shot down.

"Maybe." That causes an uproar, as no one expected him to accept.

"About time," he hears the head nurse comment, reading over charts on the other side of Cory.

The young blond nurse has a bright blemish appear on her pale cheeks.

"Good. Can't wait. See you tomorrow, Sergeant."

Tapping her foot on the floor, the head nurse reminds Cory of regulations. "You know you can't have a relationship. You're still an enlisted man, and she's a lieutenant."

Cory cuts up. "I know, but it's just a drink, ma'am. I don't do relationships—you know that."

"I know, just reminding you in case you forgot."

They look at each other and laugh.

"Good one, Captain," he tells her, placing his last chart on the end of the bed before heading to the charge station for his shift.

Going over notes from his online lectures, Cory's night goes from peaceful to shattered when the MPs come rushing through the door.

"Sergeant Cory Dubois?" one of them questions, standing after he stops at the desk.

"Yes, I've done nothing wrong. What's this about?"

Taking their position in parade rest, they explain their actions. "We're here on behalf of the chaplain. Your father has passed away, and you are being shipped home for bereavement leave. Ten days at home, and then you report back to your unit."

"Forget it. I'm not going!" He tells them, taking his seat.

"Colonel's orders, Sergeant. You have no choice. His demands are for you to be sent home since you have skipped required R&R for the last two deployments."

Slamming his fist on the table, Cory awakens every patient in the bay. "I said I'm not going. Court-martial me if you must, because I am not going back to RiverCreek!"

A day later, Cory is proven wrong when he's flying back to Germany for a direct flight to New York and then jumping onto a connecting flight to St. Paul Regional Airport.

When he's on the ground in Minnesota, he's welcomed home with a loud squeal when his mother spots him walking from the gate.

"Cory, son!"

He cringes at the sound of his name.

"Hi, Mom," he says, opening his eyes to see his mother, who has aged more than he has expected, standing in front of him.

"You look so good," she says, wrapping her arms over her son for the first time since he left home.

All he can do is stand there with his arms to his side. "Sorry to hear about Dad. I just came in to be at the funeral, and I'm taking off again."

Squeezing even harder, his mother begs, "Please stay longer. You've gone for so long."

Even standing there, Cory already feels the agony creeping back into his mind.

"We'll see, Mom, but I'm not making any promises."

Once she's able to let him go, Mrs. Dubois keeps her hands on his shoulders. "Look at you, so handsome, and with short hair. Oh, son, please don't make it another six years before I see you again after you leave this time. I know Tara would love to see you."

"Don't bring that bitch's name up around me."

Shocked, Mrs. Dubois seems lost by his actions. "Why? She's been golden, helping out when she can. She even made sure that—"

Cory's pain takes control as he interrupts his mother's sentence.

"I said to shut up about her, or I'm out right now." He acts as if he's about to turn around to leave.

"No, you got it. She's not coming out of my mouth again. I won't even tell her you're home."

His pissed-off demeanor written on his face, Cory follows his mother out to her Ford Explorer, where she makes the drive home.

They pass the welcoming sign, making their way home.

"We're here, back in RiverCreek. The little town where nothing has changed."

Pulling up, Cory feels that tingling shiver crawl through his spine.

"You all right, son?"

Staring at the house, he sits there in silence.

"Come on inside. It's been remodeled for the most part. Kind of had to after your dad went downhill after his stroke."

"I had no idea—"

He's cut off before he can begin to show sympathy.

"I love ya, son, but don't sit there and pretend like you missed us. You disappeared more than six years ago, and it broke your dad's heart. We never understood why, but it took its toll on all of us."

"Sorry, Mom. After what I got in the mail, I was done with this place. I couldn't bring myself to come back. Too many bad memories. I got my chance to go, and I took it."

They sit there for another moment, trying to bury the hatchet. They get out of the SUV. Cory stares at the simple vinyl-tiled ranch-style home.

"Well, let's get inside, son. You need to rest up before the viewing and the funeral."

Snapping back from his cold, dead stare off into space, Cory follows his mother inside, where his attention is taken by the place where the kitchen table used to sit.

"Is that where Dad stayed? What's with all the equipment?"

Over on the hospital bed, Mrs. Dubois runs her hand back and forth where she found him the morning he died.

"He gave up when he realized you wasn't ever coming home. He slowly allowed his organs to fail by stopping his visits to see his specialist."

Cory stands there in the middle of the living room with his eyes glazed over. "I don't know what to say."

Looking down at the hardwood floor, Mrs. Dubois breaks her promise to her son. "Listen to me—just listen. Tara spent so much time here with him. She pampered and nursed your father to show him that someone mattered in their life to him. Even after you abandoned us, she never did."

Throwing his bag on the couch, Cory unzips his bag, roughly taking the letter to show his mother. "Here, you want to know so damn bad, then read it."

Cory flippantly tosses Tara's letter into his mother's lap. Not wanting to wait around to see her response, Cory takes off, walking down the street.

At the end of block, Cory bumps into an old acquaintance. "Joe, Joe Winters, is that you, man?"

Joe pauses to turn around with his kids holding his hand. "Cory? Really, you're home? Oh, wow, long time, old man."

Cory smirks with a slight chuckle. "Look at you. You're going bald and getting kinda chunky, old friend. And who are these little people with you? Can't be your kids—they're too cute to have come from you."

With a sarcastic laugh, Joe introduces his children. "Cory, this is Shay, my oldest daughter, and this is Vicky, my youngest daughter."

The two little sandy-brown-haired girls giggle and hide behind their father.

"They're beautiful, Joe. You're a lucky man."

Patting Cory on the arm, Joe smiles and waves as he returns to his walk up the sidewalk with his little girls.

Cory resumes his walk to his destination of nowhere. He wanders around, eventually finding his way to his father's old garage. He hears the familiar racket of air ratchets buzzing in the air.

"Who's running this place?" he asks out loud, heading around the side of the building.

As he peeks around the corner, he catches a glimpse of a tall African American man barking out orders.

"C'mon, Russell. I need this brake job done yesterday. Get the lead out of your ass!"

Unable to pinpoint why the man's voice sounds familiar, Cory stands there ransacking his memories when something else catches his eye.

Drawn from the corner of the building, Cory steps out, where he's noticed staring with intensity at his old car.

"Hey, pal, you ... Cory, is that really you?" the tall man calls out.

"No way. Rick?" Cory freezes in his tracks, gawking at his former best friend.

"Yeah, homie, it's me. When did you get back to town?"

Still bewildered, Cory musters. "A little bit ago. What are you doing here?"

"Well, I got out on parole with a ton of support from your parents and Tara. Kay's family even kept up getting me to look good with the parole board. I'm still on it now and will be for another four months. Forget all that, though. Come here, man. It's been way too long."

Rick makes his way over to Cory, embracing him in a long-overdue hug. "I am so sorry about your dad. He cut me a deal on this place before he gave it up."

"Glad someone kept this place going. Anyway, what's with my car still sitting here? I figured it'd be scrap by now." Cory points to his car, with its badly faded paint job from sitting out in the weather over the years.

"Your dad didn't have the heart to get rid of it. Still runs like a top since we kept up the maintenance on her. Go ahead. Just flushed it and changed the oil."

Reaching into his overalls pocket, Rick pulls out the key, handing it over.

"Yeah, wanna take a ride?" Cory asks.

Rick smacks him dead square center on the back.

"Can't leave these jokers without a manager. Nothing would get done, but hey if you get hungry, check out the Italian place in Minneapolis. Little joint called Rocco's Slice of Italy."

Cory suspects something's up when Rick winks after giving him the name.

"Yeah, okay, sure, buddy boy."

Shoving Cory off so he can return to work, Rick motions for him to go get into his car and take a ride. "Get a move on. It's a long haul up there."

Stepping up to his Celica, Cory slips into the driver's seat, adjusting it for his comfort. He fires the engine up, giving it some fuel, shutting his eyes, and feeling the urge to give it hell right out of the gate.

Away from the garage, it doesn't take him long to get up to speed, heading back to the house. He arrives hoping to avoid a confrontation over the letter. Inside, he sees his mother sitting in her chair with the letter in her hand.

"So this is what kept you away all this time. This crock of shit? Really, you couldn't have called or written asking about this at all?"

"I did call—several times actually—and no one ever picked up the damn phone, Mom. There was nothing for me to come back to here, and there still isn't anything here. As soon as Dad's funeral is over, I'm gone again, and I'm not coming back until I have to bury you beside him."

Crumpling the letter and dropping it on the floor, Mrs. Dubois never takes her eyes off her son. "After the viewing, stay close. We're taking a trip, and no, you have no choice. You will go and keep your mouth shut."

It's a struggle to keep his mouth shut. Cory goes back to his old room, flopping on his bed until he must get ready to leave with his mother for the funeral home. When they arrive, they mingle with the guests who have come to pay their respect. When Cory notices his mother talking to Olivia, he walks away. He takes off outside, drawing attention, slamming the front doors wide open and nearly dragging them off the hinges.

Unable to understand his actions, Mrs. Dubois takes off after him. "Cory! Hey! Stop right there. Hot damn it, son, what in the blue blazes was up with making a scene like that?"

Breathing hard to contain his emotions, Cory snaps.

"The fuck is that bitch's mother doing here? We have no need for the Roses to be here, Mom. I came, I saw Dad, and now I'm good to go."

With her hand braced above her eyes, Mrs. Dubois can't contain her own anguish anymore.

"Give me another hour, and after the viewing ends, we will go get this settled once and for all. I don't ever remember you being such a heartless bastard. Where the hell is my loving, warm-hearted son? I can't stand the prick you are now. Your father would be so disappointed in you."

"Dad's the lucky one. He doesn't have to put up with this bullshit anymore. He got away from you and this town finally, and he'll never come back. I fought like hell to stay in Iraq doing what I do best. I didn't want to be here. I was forced to come home."

Removing her hand, his mother stands there, heartbroken. "If that's how you honestly feel, then go. I don't need you to take care of me. I can manage. Just go back and forget you even have a mother."

Behind them, waiting for the moment to come, is someone unable to wrap their mind around how much Cory has changed. Prepared to take on the battle head on, Tara steps up, ready to tackle the super volcano about to erupt.

"Now, that's enough, you dumbass. You will not ever talk to your mom like that again. She's one of the best people I know."

Breathing deeper than before, Cory recognizes her voice, causing his face to shake. Every ounce of rage goes beyond his breaking point. "You ... why the fuck are you here?" he groans, nearly grinding his teeth as he talks.

Sensing things are about to get ugly, Tara goes over and whispers in Mrs. Dubois' ear.

"Go inside, Momma, and calm down. I can handle him. Go, take care of little man. He's looking for you."

Mrs. Dubois nods at her advice. She reluctantly walks away.

"You want a piece of me. Here I am, big boy. Come get me," she provokes him, trying to get him to turn around.

"Go fuck yourself, you bitch," he says, still facing away from her.

"I still have your ring on. You never officially ended it with me. So, my fiancé, wanna finish it? Then let's do this. I'm not some frightened teenage girl anymore. Turn around, you coward. My Cory wouldn't keep his back to me like a little scared bitch."

Out of anger, he twists his body around, getting right up in Tara's face. "You two-faced little slut. How could you write me like that huh? You wanna tell me that I'm not good enough for you and leave me in a goddamn 'Dear, Cory' letter and then talk to me like this?"

Still calm, wiping the spit from her cheek, Tara maintains her composure, even though she's scared out of her mind.

"I never said you wasn't good enough. I said I wasn't, and we never agreed it was over. I mean it, I still have the ring on, see."

She pulls her hand up, exposing the engagement ring on her finger. Using his speed and strength, Cory clamps her wrist with one hand, forcing the ring off with the other.

"Not anymore. This worthless piece of shit is history."

He chucks the family heirloom and watches as it grows smaller the farther it travels. His action forces Tara's hand in the matter.

"You bastard. I love that ring. I still love you, you big clueless idiot! I was trying to get your temper out of the way so we could talk. Do you hate me that much?"

Seeing her eyes go from sarcastic smartass to destroyed and crushed, he stands there, hanging onto his expression.

"Yes." He watches as he forgets to free her wrist, as he is beginning to get upset.

"I'm sorry. I was so afraid back then that I made the worst mistake of my life," Tara says, now upset over the matter.

On the inside, part of him wants to calm down and embrace her to escape the pain. The other part wants to keep up his current mood as protection in the case she's lying to get her way.

"I made the worst one the day I agreed to escort you around school. I was stupid to think I loved you," he continues, trying to keep his façade as his regret grows the longer he maintains eye contact with her.

"I know you don't mean it. I can still see it in your eyes. I never moved on, either. I couldn't. I've loved you all these years, and I don't know why. Cory, please, let me go. You're hurting me. Damn it, let me go!" She hauls off, hitting him with an open palm across the face.

Realizing his strength is out of control, Cory releases his grip and begins to walk away.

"Goodbye. Take care of my mother for me please," he murmurs, reacting to the urge to get away.

"Stop! Stay, please. I need to talk to you."

Blocking out the sound of her voice, Cory continues walking away at a slow, steady pace, his mind going numb to the world around him.

"Cory, come back. We need to settle this. We have to talk. You have to learn the truth!"

Unwilling to go after him and afraid that he'd lose control if she does, Tara heads inside, still clutching her wrist.

"Everything all right, sweetheart?" Olivia asks, standing at the door. She witnessed everything that happened.

"Yes, Mom. I think I made it worse. He won't listen. It's like he's not even himself anymore."

Checking on her daughter's wrist, Olivia and Tara are interrupted when a young man with almond brown hair and blue eyes walks up to them in his little tan khakis, accompanied with his white dress shirt.

"Mommy, did you get a ouchy?" he says in a lighthearted voice.

"Yeah, baby, Mommy got a little boo-boo. Wanna kiss it and make it all better, like I do for you?"

She bends over, allowing her little boy to kiss the back of her wrist. "All better?"

She smiles, picking him up. "Yes, CJ, you made Mommy feel all better." She gives him a kiss on the cheek, which he wipes away, wriggling to get away from her grip.

"Go stop him and tell him the truth. Tell him that his son is here waiting to meet him. He has a right to see him at least once," Olivia explains, knowing the situation that Tara lied about back then.

"Yes, Mom. Take CJ home with you. I'll pick him up later, I promise. I hope he can forgive me."

Turned around, she slips out of her heels, holding them in her hand as she exits the funeral home. Tara sprints like a scolded dog after Cory, praying as she runs that she can repair the damage inflected without a war erupting in the process. At the end of the block she stops, looking around in every direction, trying to find Cory.

"Shit, where are you?" she cries out as the guilt returns, hitting her instantly.

"How is it you can still make me cry. How?" she babbles on, giving up and returning to the funeral home.

Back near the steps, she's forced to stop when everyone begins to leave.

"I take it you didn't find him?" her mother states, carrying a sleepy CJ in her arms.

"Good guess, Mom."

In a disappointedly sigh, her mother says, "Come on. Let's go home. If his mom sees him, she'll call."

Putting CJ in his booster seat, Tara leaves to go to her mother's, staying the night since she doesn't feel like driving back to Minneapolis to return for the funeral service in the morning.

In the driveway, she doesn't get the chance to get out, as Cory flings his car into the driveway behind her. Cracking his car door open, he stands there, glaring at her.

"Get in the fucking car," he demands with a look to kill on his face.

"Hang on. I need to take my son inside and put him to bed. Can I even get back into regular clothes?"

"Your son?"

Tara confirms his confusion. "Yes, my son, our son, actually." She stands there feeling six years of regret and remorse cripple her soul.

"I wanna see him! I wanna see my boy," he says, feeling a wave of calm come over him in that instant.

"Sure, I know you wouldn't harm him. He's a spitting image of you, especially with his hair styled like yours when we met. He has my nose and your smile."

Curious to see him for the first time, Cory sluggishly goes behind Tara to get CJ from his booster seat.

"Already out cold, so be gentle taking him inside, please," Tara educates him as she quietly opens the car door, unlatching him from his restraint.

"He looks a lot like Dad, actually. There's no mistaking it—he's mine," Cory says as his eyes swell with tears.

Tara stands there speechless.

"We're not finished," he reminds her, picking him up, twisting him from side to side, cherishing the feel of his boy in his arms.

"Take him inside and put him in my old room, please. I'll get changed and meet you at the point—I promise."

Cory takes him upstairs, laying him down on the bed. "Sweet dreams, my boy. Daddy loves you."

Tara's still at a loss for words. "I found this when I was walking away. Keep it, for all I care."

He opens his palm to reveal the ring he threw.

Taking the ring from his hand, Cory slips away, returning to his car and driving away. Tara goes to the drawer where she keeps her spare clothes. Once she's changed, she heads downstairs, where her mother is waiting.

"Be careful. He's not the Cory we remember."

Stopping at the bottom step, Tara tells her mother, "He won't hurt me, not after seeing CJ."

Ready to rumble with Cory all over again, Tara realizes she's going to have to come up with a plan quickly. She goes over every possible scenario in her mind on her way to the point. As the sun drops from the sky, and prepared for the fight of her life, she still feels her heart pounding like it used to back in the day when she was around Cory.

When she arrives, she sees his car sitting there, but he's not in the Celica waiting. Memories flood back from years ago, nearly causing her to pull away.

"No, you can do this," Tara whispers to herself, climbing out the car.

She heads down the path to the dock, where she sees Cory standing there under the lights, waiting to get this confrontation settled once and for all.