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Adjusting	By : Bia Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Eminem/Marshall Mathers Views: 7351 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know Eminem (Marshall Mathers). I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 15
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- 17
Over the next few days, the three of them slowly felt out a comfortable routine. Sometimes it seemed surreal to JC. Mornings began with Marshall knocking on his door. Breakfast would be scrounged up, and they'd eat in companionable silence. There was always a cup of coffee waiting for him, though he rarely saw Marshall drink.

Afternoons like today were usually spent between the den and the backyard.

JC eyed the little girl perched at the top of the monkey bars.

"C'mon, Mr. Josh. It's not that high," she coaxed, slyly.

JC looked around for Marshall, but he was nowhere in sight. Probably still inside on the phone. He climbed nimbly up the jungle gym, until he was perched beside Hailie. She gave him a pleased little smile. As he stared down at her, he had to admit if only to himself Marshall had been right. If he'd been allowed to retreat back to his room, he might never have come back out. As it was, it was only Marshall and Hailie's presence that kept him from slipping back into the numbness. One too sharp, the other too bright to be hidden from. On the other hand, they also helped keep the memories at bay, at least during the day.

The night was a hell he couldn't escape. Justin's touch. His voice. His eyes, lurking always just behind his lids.

However, despite his roommates or possibly because of them the days passed in a pleasant sorta haze. He knew abstractly that he'd been at Marshall's four days since that morning the other man had dragged him back into the world. Every morning since the rapper would knock on his door, then stick his head in to tell him when breakfast would be ready before heading down with Hailie.

Hailie sighed as the sad look came back. Mr. Josh's friends had to be real poopy-heads for him to be so unhappy. Well, she and her daddy would fix that. "Mr. Josh," huffed Hailie, poking a sticky finger into his side.

JC jumped, tilted then clung frantically at the bars beneath, startled out of his thoughts. He turned a firm glare on the giggling girl.

"You don't startle a man," began JC, settling himself better on the bars. "Clinging to a kid's monkey bars. Or unpleasant things happen."

Hailie peered up at him with innocent eyes. He didn't buy it for a second. "So what was worth taking five years off my life?"

Hailie grinned, unrepentant. "I was thinking, you could ask Daddy for brownies with lunch." She batted those innocent eyes. JC knew he was being had. They'd had brownies twice since he'd been here. Both at Hailie's suggestion. He'd seen the look on Marshall's face the last time, and he suspected Hailie had as well.

With a grimace Marshall dialed Dre's number, he'd been gone a week. He could just imagine how well that had gone over. Hopefully since he didn't have anything pressing, Dre wouldn't bitch too much. He didn't have any interviews or press shoots scheduled anytime soon either. So a little unscheduled time off shouldn't cause too much of a problem.

"Young's what'ja need," was the absent-minded answer when the phone was finally answered.

Marshall paused, then spoke.

"Dre in Marcel?" grunted Em.

On the other end of the phone, he could hear the younger man yelling.

"Naw, Em. You wanna leave a message or something?"

Em knew he should wait until he could talk to Dre. But he honestly did not want to explain this. So he decided to seize the opportunity. "Just tell him I needed to get away for awhile. If he needs to reach me," Em rattled of the phone number.

"Un-huh," muttered Marcel, sounding distracted.

"Did you at least write that down," growled Em.

On the other end of the phone he could hear Marcel now scrambling for pen and paper. "Okay. Yeah, yeah. I got it."

"A'ight," muttered Em, hanging up.

Marcel hung up the phone, and looked around for someplace to stick the note. His cell phone rang. Marcel grinned broadly recognizing Michelle's ring. Scrambling for the phone, he shoved the note into his pocket.

"Hey, baby," he growled into the phone. He scooped up his basket of clothes, heading for the laundry room as his girlfriend's voice purred into his ear.

Marshall stared down at the phone for a long minute. He hadn't spoken to Proof in a week either. Sooner or later his boy was going to get worried, and he didn't need him tramping all the way out here. He dialed Proof's place, before remembering he'd had the number changed again. He hung up, and then dialed his cell. The phone rang for several minutes before the voice mail picked up, it squealed several ear-piercing shrieks before cutting off abruptly.

Muttering about cheap ass phones, he hung up and dialed a number he knew would be answered. If he caught her in time.

Helena frowned down at the unknown number on the caller ID, she was running late. It was rare that one of the fans managed to get her number, but it wasn't unknown. On the other hand, it could be one of her boys. She picked up. "Helena speaking."

"Hello."

"Marshall sweetie, how are you?" Helena paused to check her hair in the hallway mirror, tucking a sliver strand behind her ear. Marshall usually only called once a month. Though he managed to always say hello whenever Deshaun called her.

"Fine, Mama H. I know you're probably on your way to church, but I was calling cause I can't reach Proof. He kept that cheap a--phone we got from the Grammy's," explained Marshall. "It wouldn't even let me leave a message."

"You're not together," Helena asked confused. Marshall and Deshaun when they were in L.A. were normally inseparable. Neither one liked the Hollywood lifestyle. A horn sounded, and she frowned. Her daughter was entirely too impatient.

"I had to get away for a bit," said Marshall as he headed into the den. "If he needs me, I'm at the place in the 'burbs. Dre's got the number."

"I'll be sure to tell him when he calls," Helena assured him. She hesitated, late or not she had to be sure her boys were okay. "There's nothing wrong is there, Marshall?"

"No, ma. Just helping a friend," Marshall answered, crossing over to the sliding doors.

"All right, sweetie. I'll talk to you later," Helena said, tugging on the cashmere coat, Marshall had bought her last Christmas.

"Later," agreed Marshall, hanging up. He tossed the cordless phone toward the couch, and then leaned against the door, not ready to go outside just yet. Instead just watching the two. He'd known making the kid come out of his room had been a good idea. Over the last few days he'd started to loose that hunted look.

He started forward the moment he saw JC start to fall, stopping when it became apparent the man was fine. Satisfied everything was okay for now, he leaned back against the door. His baby had managed to coax the usually subdued man to join her atop her play set. Something she'd had yet to convince him of. He knew Hailie had startled him on purpose. His baby girl was perceptive, and she'd taken a huge liking to JC. Anytime 'Mr. Josh' slipped into broody pants mode she tried to drag him out. Like her old man she was successful at anything she put her mind to, and five outta ten the kid would snap out of it.

Marshall frowned, at least temporarily. Though he had to admit the kid was doing a lot better. Sure he wasn't a barrel of laughs but he was starting to lose the haunted look. The shadows around his eyes were fading as well, despite the movements late at night. After being stuck with them all day, Marshall allowed him his privacy when he walked the house at night. He knew how edgy he was after a nightm-- hard night. Everyone had 'em. And if anyone was allowed it was Josh.

Marshall grimaced as he heard Hailie wheedling for brownies. He knew that even if the kid wasn't in the mood for brownies, he'd agree anyway. JC was quickly developing a soft spot for his child.

He watched with a wary eye as they scrambled down the bars. JC was grinning as he swung Hailie up into his arms; galloping around the yard until he collapsed with a huff onto a lounge chair. Maybe it was time to tell him about the studio he thought. The kid was doing well enough that he was pretty sure he wouldn't start locking himself away in there as an alternative.

Hailie squealed, yelling at her pony to giddy up. JC slid her around until she was standing between his knees. "Sorry kiddo. But my giddy up has got up and went."

Marshall frowned at the wince, JC hid as Hailie went racing back to her bars. He'd known Joshua was banged up, but the kid had assured him the injuries were minor. Resolved to find out what exactly was wrong, no matter how elusive JC tried to be. Sliding open the door, he made his way into the back yard. Coming up behind JC he tapped him on the shoulder.

The quiet disturbed only by Hailie's low laughs had started to soothe JC. He'd closed his eyes, slipping into the half aware state he spent most of his time in. He screeched at the touch, yanking himself away. The lounge chair was only so big. There was only one way to go. He tumbled to the ground.

"Goddamn," snapped Em, staring down at the cringing man. "Will you knock that shit off?” Shortly, after he'd uttered the words his head snapped up, eyes searching for Hailie. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her inside her tree fort. Too far to hear them.

JC sat panting, trying to still his trembling limbs. Embarrassment tinged with shame raging through him. He hated this. Reacting like some kind of frightened, swooning damsel every time Marshall came up on him unaware. He knew logically the man wasn't going to harm him. But after Justin.... Taking another calming breath, he forced himself to look up at the man.

Marshall stared down at him. Eyes nearly unreadable but in the barest flicker JC saw pity. It sparked his nearly extinct temper.

"Will you give me a fucking break," he snarled, pushing to his feet. "It's barely been a goddamn week since Justin r--" JC's face filled with a helpless rage as he practically spat out the name. His voice choked off, and he turned away.

Marshall froze. It had only been a week? He'd always assumed it'd happened during the time JC had gone missing from the interview. That meant....

"It was that night," hissed Em.

JC wouldn't look at him. He held himself still.

"Why the fuck were you out?" snarled Em.

"Chris. He made me go out--"

Em held up a hand. JC watched him warily, arms sliding up and under his shoulders. Em saw and his scowl hardened. "Excuse me," he muttered.

JC watched slack jawed as Marshall abruptly stalked off. Hailie bounded up beside him before he could start to panic. "Where's daddy going?"

JC shrugged. Hailie watched her father stalk through the den, then out of sight. Daddy looked upset. It meant one thing. "He's going to the gym," she said, mouth pursing.

"Gym," asked JC.

Hailie nodded. "Is where he goes when needs to hit something." A tiny frown marred brow. "He can be in there for hours sometimes." She paused turning a curious gaze on him. "Can you cook?" She looked back at the house, and caught his hand. "I can cook but only with help if we wait for daddy we’ll never get fed. And oooh you can make brownies." She chattered on as she marched them into, and through the house.

Em slammed the door shut, reveling in the satisfactory thud. He needed to beat the shit outta something. And he needed to do it now. For a moment he stood head bowed, trying to control his temper. Hailie and Joshua did not need to be exposed to Slim. Except Slim wasn't the only one enraged. Every part of him from Marshall Mathers to Eminem to Slim Shady was brassed off. He rummaged through the box by the door, finding the tape and quickly wrapping his knuckles. The first swing sent the bag hurtling back.

How could they not see? Fuck. He'd met the kid all of three goddamn times. Three! He'd seen. Or maybe they knew. He lashed out faster, sending the bag into a wild spin. And as long as Timberfuck was happy... Em was unaware of the growl that emerged. All he saw was red. If he ever saw Timberfuck... The smug face flashed before his eyes and his blows grew harder.

JC glanced down the hallway Marshall had vanished down, but let Hailie pull him into the kitchen. He sat her on a near by stool, then did a slow perusal of the kitchen. "Where do we start?" he asked, finally.

"Brownies," she shrieked.

JC gave her a look, and she sighed a put upon sigh. "Lunch," she grumbled.

JC hid a grin as he stuck his head in the fridge. The girl really was adorable. He studied the shelves, marveling at the vast content. He was pretty sure he hadn't seen a fridge stocked like this outside Chris's. For a second he worried about how his brothers were doing, then pushed the thought aside. They'd be fine without him for a bit.

"All right, Hailie get the bowls," he said, pulling out the stuff for sandwiches. His little helper scrambled off her seat and began to set the table. JC wasn't used to cooking for himself. When he'd been in L.A, there'd been a lot of Ramen^TM noodles. Then it was what Chris and Joe brought, and later everything was usually catered. But soup and sandwiches he could do. It wasn't long before he'd heated the soup, and made Hailie her usual grilled cheese. He made himself a sandwich, then paused. He had no idea how long Marshall would be gone; but just in case he fixed him a plate, sticking it in the fridge.

Sitting at the table, he listened with half an ear to Hailie's chatter as he thought about Marshall's behavior. He knew it irked the older man to have him cringing back from him. He seemed to take a personal offense. JC snorted. It wasn't like it was a bowl of cherries for him either. He felt like a child cowering from the dark. He was tired of being frightened. Though he acknowledged somewhere deep inside, he'd been afraid for a long time. Afraid of too many things.

Hailie watched Mr. Josh as she ate her soup. The sad look was back in his eyes. They had that shiny look she'd sometimes seen in her mommies. She really had to work on making daddy get that puppy. Pushing her bowl away she scooted closer, until she was right under him. He started, glancing down at her.

"Brownies now," she growled, sounding like a kitten.

JC glanced down, and nodded with mock seriousness. "Right away, darling." He moved to the cabinets, searching through several of them, coming up empty handed. Not a Betty Crocker^TM box in sight. He turned to tell her highness that. She had to have senses like her father because her eyes were all ready puppy dogged before he'd finished turning. "I'm sorry, Hail. There's no mix left," he tried.

"Can't we make them from scratch," she pleaded. Her eyes got even wider.

JC hesitated. Hesitation is fatal when dealing with kids. "Oh, please. I know we can do it." She batted big eyes.

JC sighed, knowing he was all ready hooked. "Okay. I guess we can wing it. There's bound to be instructions around here somewhere."

Hailie gave an excited squeal, and bounced. JC caught her before she could fall off her stool.

"Really," he muttered. "How hard could it be?"

Em grunted at the stab of pain that sliced up his arms. His blows slowed to a stop as the pain began to register more and more. Finally, he stood still, breathing heavily. He'd no idea how long he'd been down here. All he really remembered was Joshua telling him that those fuckers he called brothers turned a blind eye to his pain. Well the kid had someone in his corner now, and he had something for the little bitches. Specially Timberfuck. With a grimace he began to unwrap his knuckles, he glanced down wincing in surprise at how red and swollen they were. It was going to sting like a motherfuck for a while. He tugged off the sweat stained sweatshirt, tossing it toward the hamper by the door as he left. He walked slowly up the stairs, trying not to think. He could still sense the red haze lurking at the edges of his temper. Slim was still riled. Kirkpatrick now on his list for an old-fashioned beat down.

He grimaced as he caught sight of the time. It was well after lunch. He couldn't believe he'd left the two of them alone for so long. Hell, he couldn't believe he'd actually trusted Joshua enough to actually leave him with his baby girl like that. Obviously the unconscious trust thing was working on both of them. His pace picked up regardless, and he called out as he walked through the living room.

"In here daddy," squealed Hailie. He could hear the giddiness in her voice. Marshall entered the kitchen and froze.

It looked as if a hurricane had hit it. Hailie sat on the island, clutching one of many brown spattered bowls. Flour coated every available surface. What looked like a dozen eggshells lined the sink.

"We made brownies," cried Hailie, dipping her entire hand into the bowl.

Marshall thought about protesting, but her face was all ready smeared with the stuff. And Joshua... he was standing in the middle of the kitchen looking confused, muttering to himself. Marshall looked him over carefully. Flour turned the dark hair gray, one cheek was smudged with chocolate, and somehow flecks of sugar were caught in thick black lashes. Marshall wanted to hug them both. Em growled out, “What the f--"

JC finally seemed to realize he was there. He turned around, flushing a brilliant red. "It sounded so simple. How could it have gone so wrong," he groaned.

Marshall couldn't help it. He laughed. Joshua's indignant look only made him laugh harder. "Oh, shut up," muttered JC. Marshall straightened. JC visibly restrained himself. He wouldn't flinch.

"It's okay kid," grunted Marshall. "Look, I understand but could you think about taking it down a level?"

JC was once again astounded by this man. Gruff, insensitive rude even. But somehow if not sweet, JC snorted at the very thought, mellow. He gave a tentative nod, and an even tinier smile. "I'll try."

Marshall tipped his head, then turned back to his destroyed kitchen. Hailie hugged her bowl closer. "What in the fu-udge," he grunted. "Where you doing?"

JC sighed. "Fudge is about right," he said self-deprecatingly.

The slender brunette held the only actually filled pan in the kitchen out to him. Marshall stared down at the glossy semi-solid sludge. "You were making fudge?

JC dropped the pan on the island with a disgusted snort. "Brownies," he huffed.

Marshall snickered. JC glared. Hailie squealed again. Marshall's attention focused on her again. "I suppose this little heathen was helping," he asked.

"Uh, yeah." JC said over his shoulder, moving to the fridge. He took out the plate, sitting it on the counter before Marshall. "You might want to let her back outside for a while. Possibly extend her bedtime. Conceivably she should be tired sometime a few hours from now. Next year."

Hailie bounced again, both men lunged for her. She giggled and JC carefully extricated himself from Marshall's grip. "I uh made you... uh we made lunch," he offered, backing away. "I guess I’d better get started cleaning.”

Marshall glanced around, and then shrugged. "Nah. The cleaning lady comes in tomorrow. She can get it," he said, unwrapping his food. He scooped the sandwich, then Hailie up. "I do suggest you get cleaned up. Like this little lady is going to." With that he started up the stairs with her. JC stared at the mess. He thought about the fit Justin would have had, then shoving thoughts of his ex aside he followed them up.

An hour or so later, all clean again, they settled into the den to complete their daily routine. JC in the armchair Hailie had dubbed Mr. Josh's. Marshall and Hailie on the couch. Or Marshall on the couch. Hailie spent the evening darting between the two of them. Until finally around three a.m. she crashed, curled into JC's side.

"Marshall," he whispered. The rapper had fallen asleep, sometime earlier. It didn't surprise JC. During their talks, he'd learned this was the longest vacation Marshall had, had in years. "Marshall," he called again. The blond sat up, every muscle tense. JC felt himself tense in response; it was like being caught in a viper's gaze. Knowing it wouldn't think twice about striking.

Marshall's head snapped around, spotting Hailie sound asleep against JC he relaxed. He'd heard the voice the first time. The soft soprano whispering his name had curled around his spine soothing him in some heretofore-unknown manner. The second time it sparked his conscious. Marshall studied the picture the two made. Hailie had tucked herself into Joshua's side, her head resting against his chest as she slept deeply. He thought he might not mind having Joshua around for a while. He stood with a back cracking stretch, moving to collect his daughter. He scooped her up into his arms, and headed for the door. Pausing there, he spoke. "Night, Joshua"

"Night, Marshall," JC replied quietly.

Their nightly ritual complete, Marshall headed upstairs.
- 15
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