Title: Angels in a Cage: Chapter Four, Colors
Rating: PG-13 [mild language]

Summary: Alyssa seems to happily adapt to life wherever. Chris likes Skittles.




It was a completely temporary solution but the only one he currently had. And each passing moment made him reconsider it. But what other option did he have? A stranger clearly had to watch his young daughter for awhile, especially with his promotion. Choosing a daycare that fits his standards, however, had yet to happen. So there he was, on the congested I-5, driving Alyssa from her school back to his office for a few more hours of work.

“Guess what, Daddy?” the young girl chirped.

“What, pumpkin?” his eyes found hers in the rear view mirror.

“I buildeded a tower as big as me out of blocks!” she professed.

“How’d you manage that?”

“My teacher helped. She helps me lots.”

The shine in her eyes instantly answered a lingering question: whether or not to transfer her to a closer school, on in Seattle opposed to Everett. He could not remove his daughter from a positive environment, even if it was inconvenient for him.

“We go home?” she questioned.

“No. Daddy still has some work to do.”

“I play with Mari?”

“She’s going to be busy too, sweetie. But I got another coloring book for you,” he remarked, flicking on his blinker to leave the interstate.

“New colors too?”

Howard nodded, “These ones are even scented.”

“What’s that mean?”

“When you take off the lid, the markers smell like something.”

“Markers?” she gasped. “I be bery careful, Daddy. I pwomise.”

Nearly two hours after leaving, Howard entered the office with his young daughter. The girl happily greeted everyone, receiving a sweet every now and then. His co-workers and employees were the direct cause to the increasing candy dish in his office as Alyssa would only eat a single candy from the trip. Upon reaching Marilyn’s desk, Alyssa squealed and hurried into the woman’s arms. Emptying her pockets onto the secretary’s desk she bubbled about her day while Howard slipped into his office to fetch the coloring book and markers. With his daughter settled, he turned to the flashing message light.

Within a minute he regretted missing one call in particular: the priest of his wife’s church. He just knew it had to do with the divorce, which as of now, a week after moving into a downtown condo with Alyssa, he had heard nothing about. Emilie had thus far not resisted moving ahead with it, though she hadn’t hired a lawyer. He almost believed it would be uncontested. Until the pastor’s call.

Returning Father John’s call above any else, Howard’s eyes focused on his little girl as she carefully colored while sitting at the coffee table. If it was not for her, he... his life would be drastically different. And for worse, because he certainly knew she was the best thing in his life.

“Father John? This is Howard Morgan returning your call.”

“Ah, Howard, how good it is to hear your voice. You have been missed these past few weeks at services.”

“As I no longer live in the vicinity, I am certain you will be missing my presence even more.”

“Then surely you know why it is that I call.”

“I have an idea.”

“The Church does not condone divorce.”

“If that had been a concern of mine perhaps I would have asked. Considering the Church condones spousal abuse as long as the stick used is the size of a thumb, I would rather ignore the Church’s beliefs,” he responded.

“Howard, you are a bright man without a doubt, so clearly you know the Church no longer follows such.”

“Regardless the mark is still there.”

“Does it not bother you that your wife will be ostracized within all of her social groups? Or that she will be unable to participate in a number of services?”

“Not nearly as much as the thought of her striking my daughter.”

The pastor paused for a long moment, “She has confessed her sins and been forgiven. God is her judge, not—”

“It is my duty to see that Alyssa lives a happy and productive life. Forgiving Emilie’s actions will not allow so. My decision is final.”

“I cannot guarantee you will not be excommunicated.”

“I cannot guarantee I will give a fuck. Good day, sir,” he dropped the phone rather loudly down.

Alyssa’s large eyes darted to him, concern shining through her young features, “Daddy?”

“Nothing for you to worry about at all, baby girl. Nothing at all.”



Sweat beaded upon his skin, flecking his muscles with tiny salty pools. Grunts passed his lips, barely audible. Any moment the release would come, his body would collapse. If he was lucky, she would bathe in the afterglow with him and a bottle of beer. But a string snapped on his guitar and it all went to shit. Anger and frustration quickly overtook the pending euphoria and he yanked the instrument off, the shoulder strap breaking from the neck of the guitar. But it mattered not because he had every intention on taking out his emotions on the broken object. Without much of a thought he slammed the guitar onto the stage. The neck snapped, the body splintered, more strings broke. And that was somehow cathartic, so Chris swung again, breaking it even more. Without much more consideration, he tossed the pieces into the rowdy crowd and stomped off the stage.

As it was a bar stage, there was no backstage lounge, other than a tiny closet with a couple of chairs shoved into it. That was not a suitable location for him to lament the crapshow. So he ignored the few lingering in the halls and stalked out to the alley. Instantly lighting a cigarette, he leaned against the brick wall, the misty rain mixing with the perspiration on his chest and shoulders. He attempted to brush the curls wet with sweat from his eyes, but they remained plastered to his forehead as he smoked. With each inhalation, smoke curled around his nerves, easing away some of his anger but not much.

The door opened next to him and out stepped the guitarist. His dark eyes flitted to the singer briefly before searching his own pockets for his cigarettes. With a glowing ember finally perched between his lips, he regarded Chris with far more interest. While waiting for Kim to speak, Chris lit up another cigarette, wishing he had something completely different to smoke.

“So that was a rather interesting way to end a show,” he finally commented.

“My strings broke.”

“Uh huh. That’s precisely why I would trash an instrument too.”

“It was out of tune all night and I couldn’t hit any fucking note,” he continued before dropping his cigarette into a puddle, watching it sizzle out.

“Where’s your girlfriend?”

He shrugged, “Hell if I know.”

“Well I hope you get laid tonight. I’m not sure how much longer we can take this,” he smirked. “It’s been what? Two weeks since you banged a —”

“Three. I’ve been with Susan exclusively for three weeks.”

“Then hurry up and tap that ass so we can all be happier.”

“I don’t see how my sex life affects the band.”

“It does. You throw more things when not getting—”

The door flew open, narrowly missing Kim. Dark eyes flicked to Chris, the angered woman stalking towards the singer. Her eyes did not waver from his to acknowledge Kim’s presence at all. Her body was stiff and filled with tension. Kim wanted to leave but felt remaining may save the man from the banshee, as she was apparently ready to transform.

“What the fuck was that, Chris? Do you even have a replacement?”

He shrugged, lighting up his third cigarette, “Guitars, like women, are replaceable.”

“Do you have any idea what your childish actions did to your band’s image?” she demanded.

“Why the fuck would we care about that?”

“I thought you wanted to go big time”

“No. You want us to go big time We just want to play,” he corrected.

“Chris, we talking about this. If Soundgarden is going to—”

“You’re my girlfriend, Susan, not the band’s manager, not my manager. Just my girlfriend. If you really need to run another band, talk to my siblings. I’m sure they would love your guidance,” he responded coolly.

“Maybe I will,” Susan snapped. “They certainly appreciate me more than you do. In fact, find your own fucking way home. I don’t want to see you at all right now.”

Before Chris could mutter a retort, she turned around and hurried back into the club, leaving the two men smoking in the rain.

“Guess that means you have to deal with me,” he muttered.

“Let’s go get a drink, Chris. You need one now.”



A month passed between the phone call with the priest and Emilie finally signing the divorce papers. One of his friends, a leading divorce attorney in King county, pressure her for something which eventually lead to conceding to greater visitations with Alyssa. Mainly he had agreed to allow Emilie to take Alyssa to church every Sunday and special days she deemed important; which also blocked him into attending church as well for he was not about to allow Emilie solitary access to their daughter. It was a sacrifice worth making.

And now it was official. He had a signed divorce document in his hands. He and Alyssa were free and he didn’t quite know how to process it. A celebration was needed. Setting the document down, he slowly pushed away from his desk and headed out of the office. Standing beside Marilyn silently, waiting for her fingers to cease their dance on the keyboard, Howard decided how to celebrate the news.

“Clear my schedule for the rest of the day, Mari,” he stated when she finished her sentence. “And be ready to leave at four yourself.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to go get Alyssa out of school early. And then the three of us are going someplace special,” he declared.

“Where? Why?”

“Nevermind that,” he smiled. “Just be ready.”

Driving the distance to Alyssa’s school in record time, Howard snuck into the building. Locating her classroom fairly easily, he slipped into the room. Young children sat in a circle, a single cupcake in front of each. A little boy wore a birthday hat, clearly the center of the festivities. As soon as the singing halted, Alyssa’s eyes noticed Howard in the doorway, about the same moment others did.

“Daddy!” she exclaimed and jumped up, her sandalled foot barely missing the cupcake.

Squatting Howard opened his arms. The little girl jumped into his embrace, kissing his cheek loudly.

“You want to come spend the rest of the day with me?”

“Oh yes, Daddy. Can I?”

“Of course,” he grinned. “Say goodbye to your friends and get your jacket.”

Within the hour the father-daughter pair were standing in a jewelry boutique. Alyssa was skipping around the store, singing some song while Howard looked in each case, trying to come to some conclusion. He had never really done this before, regardless of the fact he had been married for nearly twenty years. This was brand new. And everything seemed to hinge on that moment. His selection had to be absolutely perfect, had to be completely imbued with everything that Marilyn meant to him.

Dear God, he was buying an engagement ring.

“Lyssie? What do you think of this one?” he snagged the young girl and lifted her in front of the case.

“What, Daddy?” she asked.

He pointed to the simple, yet elegant, pear-shaped solitaire, “That one.”

“Oooooooh. Pretty, Daddy,” Alyssa nodded.

Shifting the girl to his hip while he motioned to the saleslady, he asked his daughter, “Are you okay with me marrying Marilyn?”

“She be my mommy then?”

“Only if you want.”

“I like her, Daddy. She can be my mommy,” she nodded vigorously.



Sitting on the couch in Kim’s apartment, his feet propped up on the rickety coffee table near his beer, Chris munched on a handful of Skittles. His eyes flicked to the kitchen as the burly guitarist entered the room, plopping beside him on the very worn couch. Another pair of heavy boots clunked onto the table.

“So what are we going to do?” Kim asked before taking a long drink from his bottle.

“Okay, despite what I told Susan the night I met her, I’m not really into dudes. So just push that idea out of your mind,” Chris remarked, eyes going back to the candies in his hand as he picked out just the red ones.

“If that’s your idea of a come on, no wonder you haven’t fucked Susan yet,” Kim responded. “I’m talking about the drummer.”

“We don’t have a drummer.”

“Precisely,” he replied, reaching over to pick a yellow Skittle out of Chris’s hand. “So what are we going to do?”

“Do you really think the reason Susan and I haven’t had sex is because I don’t know how to get her in bed?”

“Or she’s figured out your game and avoids it,” he shrugged. “Back to the matter at hand...”

“You don’t think she’s cheating on me, do you?”

Kim sighed, set his beer on the table and grabbed Chris’s, holding it out to him, “This is a conversation you should be having with your girlfriend, not me.”

“But do you think she’s cheating on me?”

“No. And here’s why: regardless of the way the two of you bicker like an old married couple most of the time, she seems to actually like you. Foolish if you ask me, but there all the same. And she did lay off the whole ‘don’t you guys want to go big’ thing, so that shows some respect for you. She’s not dicking other behind your back. Maybe she’s just waiting for you to romance her, not say ‘I’m gonna fuck you.’ But what do I know? I’ve not been a relationship longer than a couple of weeks myself,” he explained.

Chris crushed the empty beer can, tossing it towards a pile of others, “So I need to romance my way into her pants?”

“Fuck yes. And like right away. You guys have been together much longer than I expected you to be not fucking her,” he responded. “And then maybe you can stop thinking about your dick and think about the band.”

“Well, we’ll put out an ad for a drummer. It’s not like we have any gigs lined up we need to fill right away,” Chris pointed out, turning his eyes back to the candies in his hand, picking out the purple ones this time. “It’s not that big of a deal. We’ll find the right guy.”

“Or girl.”

His eyes flashed up to the guitarist, “You just want someone in the band to be your fuck buddy.”

“Well since you won’t....”

“Fuck you,” Chris grinned. “Where’s Hiro?”

“You live with him.”

“Eh. I’ve been thinking about moving. Andy’s thinking about moving, so I could probably get his house pretty easily on Capitol Hill.”

“If you don’t mind people breaking in and stealing your shit,” Kim pointed out.

Chris shrugged, “Maybe Peter will move in too. I’m sure we could change some things about the house and solve those issues. It’s not a for sure thing yet, just an idea.”

Kim watched silently as Chris continued to eat his Skittles one color at a time. Smirking he dropped his feet from the table and headed back into the kitchen to retrieve more beer for the both of them. Sometimes Chris struck him as completely naive, but sometimes he would say the most profound things he would want to shake him. He was quite the enigma. But maybe that’s why he was going to make a good frontman. Fuck if he knew; all Kim knew for certain was there was some intensity in Chris he couldn’t figure out and he was glad he was along for this ride.