Jason Isaacs Times Five - a Parody - COMPLETE

Percy’s Problem

Percy sat smoking a cigarette, contemplating the storage locker where his sledgehammer was kept. His mood worsened as he thought about his inability to free his tool from the protection spells that Lucius’s wand had wound around the locker. Stupid git, showing her how to use it. Now only she had the words to open the locker and get all their weapons, that damned magic stick included. Lucius sailed around the house with the rest of his cane, uncaring that his weapon was gone. But I care, he thought, I care!

She saw Percy staring at the locker again. He must have finished the books and investments for the month for the entire estate. His experience in dealing with money had been gratefully accepted by the group as his contribution to the estate. Even if occasionally Lucius called it double-dealing.

Deciding to interrupt his solitude this time, she wandered into the room and sat down beside him. Percy instantly put out his cigarette in his ashtray. He knew she didn’t like to breathe the smoke and he’d heard secondhand smoke was more dangerous than the smoker’s inhalations. He didn’t want to harm her.

“Thank you, Percy,” she smiled at him. “Are you missing your sledgehammer again?”

A brief crafty look crossed his face and was gone. “I don’t like being left defenseless in a houseful of men who have spent their lives honing their skills in combat. Except maybe Lucius and he could talk his way out of anything.”

“Oh, Percy, that is something I have always liked so much about you. You, more than any of the others are so wily that you keep me constantly on my toes.”

“Not the only place I like to keep you,” he said under his breath.

She didn’t acknowledge his crude remark, but continued, “That was an excellent effort at manipulation,” she grinned. “Go for the place you think a person is most vulnerable. In my case, start me worrying about your safety. But Percy, if I give you your sledgehammer, and the others their weapons, how does that lessen my worries about safety? Your maneuver just wasn’t completely thought out, being on-the-fly as it was.”

Percy shrugged, wondering for the thousandth time, What am I doing here? Why do I stay with these people when I don’t even like them? He wasn’t much given to introspection when he could spend his time more profitably pulling other peoples’ strings. But he suddenly realized he actually didn’t much like anybody, so where he lived was immaterial. And this place was better than most. His mind automatically shied away from thinking she was a major reason for his domestic arrangements. She just gives me a challenge, that’s all. Well, not exactly all, he admitted to himself, she’s a bit like a narcotic, isn’t she. Addictive and all, but only physically, he insisted mentally, I can leave anytime I want.

She reached over and took his hand. “Tell me about your sledgehammer, Percy. How did you get it? Why is it so important to you? It’s certainly an unusual weapon of choice.” She looked up at him confidingly.

“You know I’ve killed people with it,” he said to shock her away from the subject.

“Yes, I do know that. But I wonder if you realize that you are something of a novice as a murderer in this house?”

He blinked at her in surprise.

“Hadn’t you ever thought about it?” she asked. Milord Felton was slicing throats back in the Dark Ages, Hook sent countless numbers off the plank, gutted others, and shot even more. Tavington had an unsavory reputation for killing even in the middle of a legitimate war, and our elegant Lucius was known as a Death Eater, killing innocent civilians for sport. I’m afraid your sledgehammer is nearly unsullied next to their weapons.”

Percy had always had such a nasty view of himself as an unparalleled and unredeemable criminal that he hadn’t fully examined the histories of his fellows. In most crowds he was easily the worst of the lot. He was drawn up short by her words. In this crowd he hardly even qualified as bad.

“I need to work on dinner, Percy. I’ll see you at the table.” She kissed his cheek and left him.

Percy continued to sit still long after she’d gone. I’m not the worst. I’m not the cruelest. I’m not even the most unlovable. Was it relief he actually felt? She obviously thought enough of him to want him with her. Cynically, he had always thought less of her for that, while thoroughly enjoying her attentions. But the others were obviously important to her even with their pasts; was he actually important to her too? Somewhere inside him, he felt something ease.

*

She walked into the kitchen, a worried frown on her face. I’m losing him, she thought. It was a long shot, taking away his sledgehammer. The loss of his weapon wasn’t refocusing his attention like it had with the others. She was coming to a standstill in how to reach him. He needed her so much, but he wouldn’t reach out. Maybe couldn’t reach out.

An hour later, Percy strolled into the kitchen. He slowly wandered around the perimeter of the room several times, stopping to observe various dishes she was preparing.

She smiled happily at him and offered him a stool. “Oh good, someone to keep me company while I finish up the dinner preparations. I’m glad it’s you. I don’t have much luck with the others in the kitchen. They either have ideas on how I should be making the food – and you can read Lucius and Will there – or Felton is bemoaning my cutting up his beautiful vegetables. Hook just wants the food on the table and slows me down while he complains. That man has a hollow leg to make up for his missing hand.”

Percy sat down on the offered stool. “You could have asked me before this,” he said.

“Truly, Percy, I never thought to ask any of you for company. They have all been banished while I’m cooking, and mistakenly, I lumped you in with them. I realize now that I lost a chance to be with you. Well, that hurts my heart, but it’s a lesson to me, I guess.”

“Why does it hurt? Your heart, I mean?” Percy watched her suspiciously.

“Well, when you have a chance at a big money-making deal and you lose your chance because of your own lack of action, how do you feel, Percy?”

“Angry,” he said instantly. “My heart doesn’t hurt.”

“Maybe I’m explaining it poorly,” she responded. “You are angry with yourself, right?”

“Yes, I suppose so. I’m angry with myself. Then I get angry with everyone else. Then I get my sledgehammer.”

“Well, that’s the feeling I was trying to explain. I’m just angry with myself for losing your company. But for me it feels like my heart hurts. I don’t have a sledgehammer. I just feel sad.”

“So I’m making you sad,” he started to back away.

“Percy, you are not listening,” she exclaimed, upset at how he had twisted her words. “Is that all you heard me say just now? That you make me sad? I hope you aren’t handling our finances with the same logic.”

Percy stood up. “Our finances are in perfect shape. If you don’t trust me, I’ll give control back to you.”

“Oh, Percy,” she started to cry quietly. “You don’t trust me! What have I done to make you so unhappy with me?”

“I – I’m not unhappy with you, I – just leave me alone!” Percy stalked out of the kitchen. He didn’t appear for dinner and went missing all evening.

~~~~~~~~

Percy walked uptown and tried to find some action at a nightclub. Ten minutes later he knew he was in the wrong place and he left. Bollocks, he thought as he sat down on a bench, now I’m hanging out in a freakin’ park.

He came through the front door of the house at three o’clock in the morning. He was tired and worn down, but he felt surprisingly light inside. He went directly up the stairs to her bedroom door and knocked quietly.

After a moment a small, woebegone voice said, “Who is it?”

“It’s David,” Percy said.

She opened the door to Percy’s voice. “Oh, Percy, I’ve missed you so. I was worried …”

He walked her backward into her room and closed the door. “Please, call me David. Not Percy, okay? David’s my real name and I’ve decided I prefer it.”

“Of course. David is a lovely name, so calm and timeless. Was Percy a nickname?” she pulled him to sit down on her bed and settled beside him.

“No longer.” He rushed on, “I didn’t like making you cry. Now I know what you meant. My heart hurt.”

Her breath caught. “David!” She nestled into his arms and put her head on his shoulder, “if your sledgehammer is so very important to you, I’ll return it if you want.”

“No, I don’t need it any more. But I do need something - no, someone else,” he looked at her with his heart in his eyes.

She gently pushed him backward onto her bed and turned out the bedside lamp.