Title: Miracle Man

Author: MsJingles

Fandom: The Green Mile

Pairing: Dean Stanton/Percy Wetmore

Rating: PG

Summary: Dean Stanton stands guard over Percy Wetmore.

Archive: Yes.

Series/Sequel: Standalone

Disclaimer: Characters and concepts do not belong to be but rather the wonderfully talented Mr. Stephen King.

Warnings: None, this is pretty mild.

Miracle Man
by Ms Jingle

I am not ordinarily a man that believes in miracles. I go to church, I donate to charities, and I pray to God for the health of my children and wife. But Hail Jesus Christ miracles? Never really been for me. And, in all honesty, it probably has a lot to do with the work I do. After hearing some of the stories of the men that go through here, seeing human kind at its absolute worst...I'm surprised I believe in a God at all.

But, I suppose John Coffey changed all that. His bringing back the Cajun's mouse was just about the damnedest thing I ever saw, and even now I see it happening again and again in my mind as I try to figure the whole darn thing out. That thing had been crushed, Percy had finally caught up to Mr. Jingles, and I myself had heard the damn thing go crunch underneath that black boot of his. But then, Coffey had taken it into his big ol'hands, and healed it. Healed it with his touch, with his breath. And well, if that ain't a miracle, I don't know what is.

This story'd probably sound foolish if I'd ever tell anyone about it. People would probably call me a liar, but I swear it's the truth, I saw it all happen with my own eyes. And not just me, but Paul, Brutal and Harry too, they all saw. And they all think it was a miracle too, they're counting on it. We all are, especially Warden Moores, I figure - 'cept he don't know it yet.

I glance at my watch. He'll know soon enough though, 'cause the three of them, Paul, Brutal and Harry, they're on a mission. On a mission to save his wife, and although I've only met her once before, I can understand why Paul would risk so much to save her. She was just a beautiful lady, kind, smart, and funny too. The kind of woman any man would be lucky to have. She called me handsome and fed me until I was stuffed to the gills. I hope Coffey's magic works for her, like it did for that little brown mouse, Mr. Jingles. Like it did for Paul.

They told me to stay here, just in case they get caught, they don't want me to get into any more trouble then I hafta, seeing hows I got kids to put through school and all. I'm grateful, but at the same time I sure woulda liked to of seen Coffey's healing hands take away that kind lady's pain. Instead, I'm Percy sitting, and trying to stop my hands from shaking by shuffling the same deck of cards over and over again. Percy's been so quiet for so long, he's making me nervous. What if's he choking in there? What if he can't breathe because of the tape on his mouth? He had been crying before, his nose could be all clogged up and so he can't take in a breath. My thoughts go wild as I watch the door, silent and serene at the end of the Green Mile. What the hell is going on in that room anyway?

Finally, I can't take the suspense no more -- I have to check on him to make sure the bastard is still breathing. Or that Mr. Jingles hasn't taken advantage of him in his vulnerable position.

I stand to go and grab a couple of bottles of soda pop on the way. The way I figures it, a little bribe can't hurt any at this point. If we don't tread a careful line here, Percy'll spill beans on this whole fiasco for sure.

Walking down the mile, I pass Wharton drugged up and passed out in his cell, pass the empty cell where John Coffey should be, but isn't. Get to the door of the restraint room and fumble for my keys, loud enough so that Percy is sure to hear and so he won't be caught off guard when I open the door. I don't want to scare him. Not too much anyway.

"Percy?" Stupid of me, to call out his name like that, not exactly as if he can give me a reply. I switch on the light and it takes me a second to find him, even in the small room. When I do see him, I freeze. He looks terrified.

Scrunched in the corner of the room, his legs tucked up under him into a small ball, he's shaking -- even through the nut coat I can see that he's shakin'. He's been crying, still is as a matter of fact, and his eyes track me as I walk into the room, holding the cokes in my hand. I feel like I'm coming up on some sort of injured animal, gotta be careful. I talk to him, but like I do my little one when he don't want to go to bed.

I come near close to him, and he flinches back against the wall, causing two more angry tears to fall from his eyes. His lips are smushed against the tape, and I can see the rag poking out between his lips. This is something that should of been funny, but it wasn't. He was just so scared. But I could tell -- it wasn't all about me, about being here. Percy was scared of something that I just couldn't see.

"Thirsty?" I asked, offering a smile, holding up the still cold but somewhat flat RC cola. "Mouth is probably dry as hell."

He doesn't say anything, just eyes me warily, his fear is slowly starting to dissipate, I can tell. That relieves me something severe, 'cause Percy snapping on us wasn't part of the plan. Not at all. "If I take that tape off your mouth, you gotta promise you won't start hollering or anything."

A slow nod, and that's all I need. I reach over and rip it quickly from his face, not giving him anytime to think about it then pull that rag from his mouth. A few dry coughs and Percy's colour changes a flushed red.

"Get me outta this damn thing."

"Nope. Can't be doing that."

"Get me out of it NOW! NOW DEAN! Or I swear to Christ, I'll have you behind bars yourself for ASSAULT! For kidnapping!" Percy ranted, his voice raising with each word. He struggled to relieve his arms, causing his body to pitch from side to side, I watched all this for a moment, before reaching out to clamp my hand over his mouth.

He stills. "I thought we had a deal now, Percy. You're not going to go back on your word now are you?" Now I know that Percy Wetmore's word is about as good as a shit on a dinner plate, but it was the only thing that I could think of to say. I waved the bottle under his nose, "Now you want some of this or don'tcha?"

Percy glared at me, "How am I suppose to drink that damn thing, Dean? I got no arms!"

It's not funny. It's not. Percy's piss mad, tied up like Wild Bill himself, and I'm sure we both make some godawful sight. It's not funny. But it is. Which is probably why I start laughing right there, real goddamn laughing! I can't hold it back, just like in that room with old Sparky when Toot Toot told that stupid joke, I can't stop and soon -- even Percy's laughing with me. It must be infectious. This insanity. It must be.

"I'll help ya." I put the bottle to his lips, and after another very tired look my way, he tilts his head forward for a drink. The first tip is a little messy, it dribbles down his chin, but then we get a rhythm going and before I know it, half the bottle is gone. And all things considerin', Percy's been behaving mighty well about the whole thing. Hell, he's like a different person all together. All I can think is that something must of spooked him good. I'm not inclined to believe that his time in here has actually _taught_ him anything. Nah, this time tomorrow, Percy'll be back to his nasty old self.

"Where them other guys?" Percy asked. A slight tremor entered his voice, "What? They send you in first, to calm me down? Are they gonna come in next, rough me up when I can't do a damn thing about it?"

I'm tempted to say that he was weeping his eyes out just a few seconds ago, that he should be _thanking_ me for calming him down some, but I don't. "They're doing their laundry. And Paul's out helping in the infirmary. It's just the two of us for now, Percy, never you worry 'bout them anyways. They're not going to hurt you ever. They just wanted to teach you a lesson about playing games with people's lives. That was a nasty thing you did to poor Delacroix." Remembering what he did runs my blood cold, I feel whatever sympathy I had for him chill and chip away inside me.

Percy senses the change in me, gives me a hard look. "That French faggot raped and killed a little girl. Then he burned down a building and killed a whole mess of other people. You saying he didn't have it coming? All you guys...if it were up to you Delacroix and that damn stupid mouse of his would be off somewhere walking a country mile, looking for another little girl to kill."

"You telling me you burned Delacroix alive cause it was _justice_?" I shook my head. "I don't buy that Percy, I don't buy that for a damn minute. You did what you did on purpose because Delacroix laughed in your face when you pissed your pants after Billy grabbed ya. He laughed at you, and nobody laughs at Percy Wetmore, right? You're one sorry son of a bitch." I stood, pushed my way up the wall with the empty coke bottles in hand. Being around Percy was giving me a bad feeling all around.

Grabbing up that rag again, getting ready to stuff it back down Percy's little throat, he grimaced and clamped his mouth shut firmly. Oh great, this was just what I needed.

"Now, Percy -- I did you favor coming in here. If the guys found out I was in here, they'd beat me onto the mile just like you did Delacroix that first day." This was a lie, of course, they'd never do that to me, but they'd sure be plenty mad. "Now cooperate and open up yer mouth."

Percy's whole body seemed to freeze up as he stared up into my eyes defiantly, chin raised and jaw locked. I sighed and bowed my head. "Percy, we can do this the hard way or the easy way. The easy way is you let me gag you again and then you're let out of here in just another hour or so. The hard way is I hit those two nerves on either side of your jaw and pry your mouth open. And let me tell you, Percy, that hurts like a sonofabitch. Might even dislocate your whole damn jaw. So which is it going to be?"

The look of defeat, the look of resignation, is almost enough to do me in, but I hold firm. His eyes are wet and big as he looks at me, his chin trembles slightly before those lips part and he opens his mouth. I swallow, my hand moves up to gag him but for some reason I stop. I don't know why. Looking back on it today, I still don't know why. But for some reason, at that time, I chose to stay a little longer.

Looking at him, his face, his eyes, I can't help but think that Wharton is dead right about sweet young Percy. He _is_ pretty. Not girly, not exactly, not like my Melissa...but not bad to look at. It's odd in a way, Percy is, I want to avoid him most of the time, punch his lights out the rest of the time, but right now I don't want to do either. I don't know what I want to do.

I end up giving him, or trying to at least.

"Percy, you need to change, man. You need to change your ways or the path you are on is going to lead you straight off the edge of a cliff."

He looks at me oddly, plainly confused. Hell, so am I. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demands. That's the way it is with Percy, he never asks for anything - only _demands_.

"I'm a good man," I say surely, confidently. "So's Paul, and Brutal, and Harry. They're all good men. But you...you are not."

Cold amusement plays in his eyes, his pretty eyes that I can see now have caught me in a snare. "Is that so?" Softly.

"What you did to Delacroix - you knew it would be bad, didn't you? Oh, not as bad as it was, but you knew it would be bad. And Mr. Jingles, you tried to kill that silly little mouse. Why? I don't understand you, Percy. I don't understand people like you."

His smile wavers, and his eyes flit down briefly to look at the front of his jacket. When he looks back up, I can't help but for the first time to be a little scared of Percy Wetmore. Tied up here, hair all over his face, eyes blazing and mouth a tight, pursed line -- there is a look of resident evil in his face. He knows what he is.

There's a moment where I think he might say something, maybe try to deny my accusations. Most men would, but not Percy. "Get me outta here, right NOW or I swear to God, Dean, I swear to all that is holy I'll just make one little phone call and you'll be out on your ass so fast, you'll be lucky to get a job as a guard down in Paul and Brutal's Mouseville!"

He means it, I know. His damn 'connections' have been thrown in our faces for the longest time now, and I'm getting mighty tired of them. He's sitting here in the restraint room, tied up tighter then a shriveled up testicle, and he's still making 'em. "No one deserves that," I finally say, still thinking of Del. "No one deserves to die like that."

His chin trembles again, his eyes tell me he's going to lie, "I didn't know the sponge was suppose to be wet." Feeble.

Tilting my head to the side, I take the rag and jam it into his mouth before he can say a word otherwise, or put up another fight. The tape goes over the rag and he lets out a few muffled sounds of protest.

"Well, Percy, I reckon you know now."

I walked out then. Turned off the light and shut the door behind me. Took a seat at the duty desk and went back to shuffling the deck of cards a little more calmly. Had I known that this would be Percy Wetmore's last night, I still don't think I would of done anything differently, 'cept maybe I'd of asked him what he had been so scared of those first few minutes I was in there. But I think I know.

The ways I figure it, while Percy had sat there, mute, tied, and in the dark he had done some thinking. Mostly, because there ain't much else you _can_ do. Maybe he thought about his wife, or his job, about how much trouble he'd get us all into when this was all over, but no matter how bad we all make Percy out to be, I know he probably did a whole lot of thinking about Delacroix too, and what he did to him. He probably played that whole night over and over in his head, thought about what he did, why he did it, tried to justify it. But, I think when he was done with all that thinking, he realized the truth, and realized what we all knew. I think that in the dark, bound and helpless, Percy saw who he was. For the first time, he really saw.

And he was scared.

***
End