Tired by realstone 1999©

 "I’m tired. Tired of playing the game. Ain’t it a crying shame, I’m so tired. Damn-it, I’m tired." Sung by Madeline Kahn (Lili von Schtup) in Blazing Saddles by Mel Brooks

- - - - - - - - -

"Derek! Derek!" The sound of a slamming door reverberated through the house.

Derek Rayne, CEO of the Luna Foundation, a charity organization who mission is to help others and precept of the San Francisco Legacy House, an organization founded at the beginning of time to fight evil; seen and unseen, rose slowly from the piano where he’d just sat down for a moment of relaxation. Playing the grand did that for him. Taking him to places away from the turmoil that filled his days and nights.

"Der...rick!" A body followed the vocal misuse of his name. Nick Boyle, colleague, friend and chief of security for the SF Legacy house stormed into the room carrying a fed-ex envelope in one hand and a countenance full of anger. "Derek, they sent this waste of trees any way," Nick pulled a bright blue folder from the envelope and waved it around in the air, in front of his precept’s face. "With a set of instructions only a vampire on an anti-depressant could understand." Nick continued to rant, pacing the room without giving Derek a chance to explain. "I thought you had explained to London that we had made all the necessary upgrades and the reports we forwarded in September, and October, and November, six months ahead of everyone else, would be all that was required."

"I did, Nick." Derek said finally able to speak.

"But."

Derek held up both hands to keep Nick from interrupting with another outburst. "Yesterday, I received a call from the data system officer, explaining in very lengthy detail, I might add. That he needed another set of data from all the houses. He did thank me several times for our prompt and timely response, adding that he hated to put us through anymore ‘necessary trauma.’" Derek rolled his shoulders shifting the tension building there further down his back. "Frankly, Nick I didn’t feel that it was prudent to argue the point, knowing that once you and Alex looked over the report, you’d be able to complete the worrisome thing in short order and we could get on with our lives."

Nick fell down into a nearby chair, his leg hanging over the arm. "I don’t need this crap, Derek. I do my job and do it well. How many times do we need to fill in the blanks for those I-dots with accents?"

Derek moved back to the piano and sat down slowly on the bench, moving with the vigor of a ninety year old man.

"Derek." Nick pressed for an answer.

"I’m positive if you call and play nicely with the kids, they will reconsider."

"It’s your job to grovel, not mine." Nick threw back at Derek.

The arrival of a well dressed woman momentarily interrupted the growing storm between the two men. Rachel Corrigan, psychiatrist and Legacy member walked into the room without her usual pep and slung herself into a corner of the large sofa. Kicking off her shoes, she unceremoniously propped her feet on the antique coffee table. " If I have to listen to one more ‘the world is not my friend story,’ I’m going to melt down and explode." When she did not receive the usual verbal sympathetic pats on the back, she looked back and forth between the two men. "You two been kicking dirt in each others faces?"

Nick smiled evilly in Derek’s direction. "Not yet."

"Then what’s going on with you two?"

"The data systems office of the London house, in all their great wisdom, which is just enough to cover the head of a stick pin. Has requested our participation in completing a 50 page EOY report with a due date of..." Nick mimed pulling back the sleeve of his shirt and reading a watch, "January 7th."

Rachel eyes closed for a brief moment then focused on Nick then Derek. "And just how much of it, am I responsible for?"

Derek lowered his head until it rested on his arm, on the edge of the piano. Agile fingers aimlessly ran back and forth over the keys. He knew he should be defusing the building conflict, but he was just too tired to diplomatically tell either one to...just...whatever.

"Derek." Nick grumbled.

Derek turned his head away from Nick to stare at the wall. Closing his eyes he put a silent prayer out into the cosmos, that a break come his way and soon.

Nick, surprised that he was looking at the back of Derek’s head and getting no answer, tossed the folder on the floor and slid further into the chair until his head was resting on one arm and his legs swung over the opposite one.

Rachel dozed in the silence, her jacket slung across her lap, her briefcase on the cushion beside her.

A noticeable funk hung about the room, over its careworn occupants. It had been a year of great challenges and changes for the group of warriors. Four very strong and unique individuals that carried on the little known and often unappreciated job of protecting others from those powers that threaten mankind; things seen and unseen, spiritual and physical.

Derek Rayne, current resident of the piano bench. Upon his shoulders lay decisions of life and death. Nick Boyle, current resident of the arm-chair, held the house record for the most number of bruised ribs and used ice packets. Rachel, current coach potato, had been tested as a mother and friend and survived. The one person missing from the room was Alexandra Moreau, Derek's assistant and Legacy researcher.

The silence lengthened and Derek turned his head to make sure he wasn’t alone. He looked over to find Nick still staring in his direction.

"I’m still waiting," Nick pointed at the folder. "That! Is still waiting."

"Huh." Rachel said, waking at the noise. She rubbed at her temples and stretched stiffened muscles.

Derek shrugged his shoulders. Nick wasn’t going to let him off the hook. The London house wasn’t going to let him off the hook and right now he was too tired to properly deal with either. He was getting ready to tell Nick precisely, what he should do with the bright blue folder when he felt Alex step into the room. He sat up, his back ramrod straight. The first thing he noticed was the large picnic basket she held in both hands. The second was the printed blanket thrown over her shoulder, the third and most welcomed was one of the sweetest smiles he’d seen on her face in years.

Alex stood silent, grieved by the feeling of resignation in the room and the looks of frustration on the faces of her friends. Undaunted she stepped further into the room. "I’m inviting each of you to a picnic in the garden. I’ve decided that we have been cooped up in this house long enough. It’s time to get some sunshine." She looked at her three unmoving companions and taking one step backwards out the doorway turned and headed for the outside, toward a growing sense of release.

"Since it seems I’m not going to get help from our illustrious leader, I’m going to go play hookey with Alex." Nick kicked the folder in Derek's direction.

Rachel watched Nick unfold from the chair and walk out the door. She looked over at Derek who sat slumped at the piano. "If Alex fixed the basket, that means fresh scones, honey ham and loads of cheese and fruit and I’m hungry." Rachel walked over to Derek and sat next to him, her arm loosely around his waist. "You know good friend, we are all fried right now and a few hours of nothing but sunshine, good friends and fodder will make tomorrow seem better."

Derek merely grunted.

Rachel moved her head closer to his. "I promise to keep Nick on his side of the blanket. I won’t let him beat up on you." When he still didn’t respond, she stood up and pulled vigorously on his shirt sleeve. "Come on Derek." She used her best imitation of a four year old. "I want to play with the other children."

- - - - - - - - -

Rachel and Derek exited the house hand in hand, neither feeling the need to hurry as they crossed the well kept lawn. Derek took off his jacket and threw it in the direction of a nearby shrub. It landed still for a moment then slid downward to hang sleeves down, looking like the invisible man turning flips.

Their stroll was interrupted when a loud and rather long squeal filled the air. Derek pulled his hand out of Rachel’s grip and ran toward the noise. Rachel on Derek’s heels ran pass several large cedars to find Nick and Alex wrestling on the grass. After a lot more squealing and tumbling about, Alex ended up sitting very unlady like on top of Nick with his arms pinned against his body by her knees. She sat on his chest her fingers moving over his upper torso mercilessly. "Told you Boyle, no one pulls my hair and gets away free."

Nick wiggled around trying unsuccessfully to escape her probing fingers.

Rachel’s laughter filled the quiet afternoon and Derek unconsciously began to lose the rigid hunched shoulder posture he’d carried around the past few months. Looking down at the duo he wondered when he had stopped being able to relax, to enjoy his life. He recalled philosophizing the need to enjoy life to a Ms. Blake, who he had met trying to help her daughter who had stolen an antique bell, said to bring back the dead. Life is for the living Ms. Blake, no matter the age. Derek lifted his face, letting the sun’s rays warm body and spirit. Feeling better he looked around for the others. Nick and Alex stood near Rachel who was unloading the picnic basket. He watched as Rachel at Nick and Alex prompting pushed a button on the CD player. Music filled the air. Nick performed an exaggerated bow to Alex, took her in his arms and began to dance about the lawn. Derek walked to Rachel who sat on the blanket watching Nick and Alex. He held out his hand to her, she smiled up at him, accepting his offer. "Hey Ginger, mind if we join you and Fred?" Derek called out to the two whirling in his direction.

Alex lifted her head from where it rested on Nick’s shoulder. "What do you say, Fred?"

"Sure thing." Nick said, guiding Alex’s head back to its place on his shoulder. The two couples danced around each other. Songs changed, partners changed; individuals lost in their own thoughts, dreams, bubbles of unrest, changed. Alex’s stomach grumbled and she remembered the picnic basket. Pulling back slightly from Derek she looked up at her precept, noticing that some of the worry lines had disappeared and he wore a slight smile. "Rain check."

"Okay." Derek reluctantly letting her go.

They found a spot on the large blanket next to Rachel and Nick.

- - - - - - - - -

Alex walked through the shimmering brown wall to where Nick sat patiently holding a silver serving tray on which rested a blue folder. "All through?" She giggled, taking the tray.

"Yes. Took an hour and..." Nick looked at the large clock on the wall, "..sixteen minutes."

"You expect me to deliver this to our precept as is?"

Nick sat back putting his feet up on the table. "All important things should be delivered with style. Don’t you think?"

"You have a wicked sense of humor, Mr. Boyle." Taking the tray Alex balanced it carefully on the tips of her fingers and straightened an imaginary tie. "Don’t forget Mr. Boyle, the next report is due in three months."

Nick sighed deeply.

"Don’t worry I’ve already packed the basket." Alex wiggled her eyebrows at him as she walked towards Derek’s office.

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