How's It Gonna Be?

by kaleko

To: BigEffingGuns@portland.citymark.net
From: blackeye@quakespace.com
Date: Tuesday, 3 April 2001
Subject: Where the hell have you been??

I dived in. I dived in, more graceful than I could ever remember being, and floated to the bottom. And as I stared up at the world, that up-side down, wavering world on the other side of the water, I realized how unreal it looked. It all looked like a dream and I was the only spectator in a grand theater.

I felt so powerful right then, like I had the privledge of seeing the world in a way no one else had or could, ever. It was the most poetic thing I had ever witnessed.

And I can remember seeing the sun reflecting onto the bottom and me. I struggled to keep myself underwater. I could see the sun twinkling around me on the bottom like little specks of rainbow light from a prism.

For a moment that increasingly beautiful world above me was mine. I could hold it in my hand and no one could take it from me.

I'm sure as a kid, everyone's done that at some time or another, right? Taken an honest pleasure in something so simple yet so impowering.

I suppose they wondered about me. They certainly stared long enough at me after I raised myself from the pool, trying to reconnect with that childhood feeling once again. I was always doing that, always trying to connect with things that were long gone. I had always thought it was an attempt in vain until today, when I had laid at the bottom of the pool and just stared up at the blue, blue sky and still been able to marvel at it's glory just like I had when I was younger. It was a moment of freedom, pure freedom, unlike anything I'd ever known.

Sometimes I felt like pulling the trigger was a freedom. It was power, yes, but not freedom. It cursed me more everytime I did it, and that wasn't freedom. It bound me to my conscience, it made me toss and turn at night and wonder why I'd done what I'd done, and then wonder why I was feeling guilty about doing society a favor.

And what power is that, really? "Haha, I'm stronger than you because I can put a bullet in you faster than you can get me!" It never seemed all that fair to me, but then I remember fair isn't part of the game. If you don't get them first, they'll get you. You can't question yourself, because the moment you do, you become weak. You become fair game. Your ass is theirs, you're screwed. Say it any way you want, but it still comes back to kill or be killed. As sad as that is, that's the reality of it.

I used to think love was like that place beneath the water. Peaceful and beautiful and the most wonderful thing you could ever feel. It was freedom, freedom of the soul, a type of freedom no one could ever take away from you, except maybe that person you shared that special bond with. It was a magical thing, something I would never have, I thought, but considered great nonetheless.

Then I learned. Then I learned other people could take that away from you. They could make you cynical and tired and so horrible inside you doubted yourself and everyone and even that most wonderful thing called love. One person could marr you for life and there would be nothing you could do about it.

That's when I realized love wasn't like that place. It felt like that at first, yes, but then came the heart aches and the struggles. A lot of people will tell you that love is worth all the struggles, but that's bullshit. Most of the time it isn't. Even if that person cares for you, they could die or just have problems beyond their control that makes it impossible to be with them. Or you could dance around the issue for years and then they go away and you're left holding your heart in your hand in a boat without any paddles millions of miles from anywhere. "Up shit's creek" so to speak.

That's what love is like. It sucks. And everyone who ever says they'll never get involved with anyone is wrong. It happens eventually. You're totally taken by someone and you never want them to know it so you hide it from them and yourself and deny it and it never does any good. In the end, when they're away, you still see their face. You still hear their voice at night, and long for their arms to be about you when you sleep.

In the end you still end up loving. And needing.

After we disassembled, I'd wondered where you'd gone. I'd tried to find you, but I guess you didn't want to be found. I invested in some old friends and knew no way of contacting you without *her* knowing. I can't believe you're with her.

This all looks like a nice hallmark greeting card or some shit, I bet. I just needed you to know what it's felt like. I thought you should live with that. Nice address, by the way. I should have thought of it. I hate to admit it to myself, but I needed you there. I needed you there for me after that shit with O:ZT and... and everything. The entire team needed you there. So where the hell have you been?

Keeping her company? Well, that's just convenient, glad someone's happy with this arrangement. Skip out on us when we need you. When I need you.

I live from hotel to hotel. It's not so bad. I like the pools. The people stare, though. They always stare. They used to stare at us. This huge country of a man and this bitty albino by his side. You'd just laugh. We'd just laugh. We laughed together. I've laughed alone for over a year now. It's not so bad anymore. When you laugh alone, everything's funnier, for some reason.

I guess that's it. I can't say anything else until you write back and explain where the hell you've been. I've verbally and at least once physically attacked you in my head and hurt you in so many ways, so many times, so deeply, so much, that it started to feel good. In my head, I mean. Every night, until I found this address, I thought about what I'd do if I found you. I'd like to think I'd kick you, because I haven't cried once over you being gone...

Well, that one time when I heard someone say "flonq" in a movie theater. I think they were trying to butter up "fuck" for their kid's sake. Anyway.

Write me.

~Dom

To: BigEffingGuns@portland.citymark.net
From: blackeye@quakespace.com
Date: Saturday, 7 April 2001
Subject: Um... Where the hell are you?

Hey. It took me a long time to write that last one, and I didn't save it. I know you're there.

~Dom

To: BigEffingGuns@portland.citymark.net
From: blackeye@quakespace.com
Date: Wednesday, 11 April 2001
Subject: *sigh*

Please don't tell me it comes to this. Write the flonq back. Need typing lessons? See, the letters are on different keys, and if you hit them right, you can form words! Try it.

~Dom

To: BigEffingGuns@portland.citymark.net
From: blackeye@quakespace.com
Date: Friday, 13 April 2001
Subject: *sigh*

You're just going to be difficult about this now, aren't you?

You know I can find you. You know that. So why are you making this difficult? Do you think it's going to fucking change anything? No. No, it won't. It'll just make me want to hit you even more when I *do* find you.

Hell, I already know where you are. So what's stopping me from getting into my car and driving there right now? I'll tell you what is-- nothing. And then when I'm standing on your front steps, what could you say to me? Could you honestly turn me away?

Hah! I just got it! I just realized why you never said goodbye. You didn't want to face me. You couldn't look at me and walk away, could you? You coward.

Then again, you were always doing that. Always taking the easy way out. I just never thought I'd be on the receiving end, not like this.

You know what I feel like? I feel like one of those single mothers you see on talk shows. You know how they go on about how their man left them with nothing? How they completely destroyed their lives, and now they're all alone, left with nothing? That's how I feel. Do you know how pathetic that is?

I had the weirdest fucking dream last night. We were sitting in a restaurant and I had to scream at you over all the noise, but you still couldn't hear me. You looked at me as if I were possessed. And then you got up and left and was standing on the table screaming at all the accusing faces around me. I was wearing sunglasses but it was like they could see my eyes, they could look right into my soul.

You just stood at the door and stared, kept staring, kept watching me and not saying anything. You just watched me scream at the top of my lungs trying to get you to understand my words, understand *me*.

Is that what we're doing now, Nathan? Am I just screaming to you at the top of my lungs, making a fool of myself in front of everyone, and you're just standing by and watching?

~Dom

To: BigEffingGuns@portland.citymark.net
From: blackeye@quakespace.com
Date: Sunday, 15 April 2001
Subject: Another day, another e-mail

I went for a ride today. I packed up everything from the hotel and drove out of town. I stopped at this grassy field on top of a hill and stood on the hood of the car and tossed my half bottle of warm Pepsi down the hill and watched it roll. And then you know what I did?

I sat down on the grass and stared down at the woods and the town moving below me... and then I rolled. Yeah, go ahead and laugh. I rolled down a fucking grassy hill. And you know what? I had a lot of fun. I laughed. Hysterically.

I think I'm losing it, but I'm having fun at least, before my mind totally goes. It's all a part of that 'getting back to childhood' thing I've been doing.

Staring up at the sky, just laying in the grass, not having to get up and do anything. I just laid there for two hours and stared at the sky. I saw a giraffe in the clouds. And then a great, big "X". Those things are everywhere, you know. What the hell was up with that? I swear if we had let Xavier, he would have branded "X"s on the seat of our asses.

I called your dad today. He didn't want to speak to me, I know. He didn't say it, he was just very short with me. I could imagine him hopping from one leg to the next like a little kid who's had too much soda and the bathroom's occupied for another ten minutes.

He said he was slightly worried because he hadn't heard from you in so long, and I laughed. Yes, I laughed. I laughed imagining Scott Summers hopping around holding himself because he had to pee so bad, but instead he was mentally hopping around pulling his hair out because he didn't want to speak to me.

I hung up. He'll probably hand the phone to Jean next time I call, but that's okay. I had a good laugh out of it... "I gotta go pott-eeee!" C'mon. Laugh. It's funny. You know you want to.

Anyway. I got back in my car and kept driving. And while I was driving, I had a revelation that I've just now come to a conclusion about: I don't need you.

Oh, take it however you will. But obviously you left because you didn't want to be found. And now you won't answer me. I have a hard time believing you'd even open an e-mail account, but, hey, all my sources say this is yours, and you checked it just two days before I mailed my first one, so I know you're there.

And you don't want to speak to me. I can live with that. I *will* live with that.

When I was rolling down that hill today, I realized something. I realized my life was just like that: never knowing which side is up or down, always moving, always disoriented. I laughed long and hard when I finally was laying right side up again, eyes to the heavens, heart pounding inside my chest. It was the most fun I'd ever had.

I can't take when I've been doing lately, which is nothing. I haven't been *living*, and I fucking hate it. I've been just like those weepy women on the talk shows, not getting on with my life because of you. Well, I'm tired of it. I'm so tired of playing by your rules.

So I'm not going to anymore. I'm closing this account, Nathan.

Heh. I just turned on the radio.

When I say out loud, "I wanna get out of this" I wonder
Is there anything I'm gonna miss?
I wonder how's it gonna be
When you don't know me.
How's it gonna be
When you see I'm not there?
How's it gonna be
When there's no one there to talk to?
Between you and me
'Cause I don't care
How's it gonna be?

~Dom

***

"Albino... purple eyes, about this tall...?"

"Left here about two days ago."

He nodded at the hotel manager and left between the two glass doors quickly. He signaled quietly to the red Jeep across the parking lot before jogging over. "Two days."

"We're getting closer," the girl in the driver's seat muttered.

Sam Guthrie climbed into the passenger seat and the jeep backed out of the parking space and turned into the driveway to pull back onto the highway. "You think we'll find her?"

"Eventually," Danielle Moonstar said, surveying the road. "I'm almost afraid of finding her."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." She nodded distractedly, her black hair wiping around in the wind from the open top and sides of the jeep. "Considering the messages she sent, we don't know how she'll react to... this."

"I know. It's hard for me, too." The blond boy stared at the letter in his hand for long moments, a sigh shaking his frame. "It's always hard when someone dies."

*finis*

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