Sun. Dec. 5th
It's been hell since the Mercury broke the story about the cult theory. They're worse than demons. Some ass hole even climbed up on the roof & aimed his camera into Kat's room. The flash like to scared her to death. God! What's next? Child abuse? Infant sacrifice? Damn them all to Hell!
Fr. Thomas came by on Fri. - seems a pleasant, but stern man - we all had a long talk. He brought some things by that they had found in the rubble. It's odd what survives. I have La Belle's locket back and a kitschy snow globe with St. Louis Cathedral and Jackson Square inside. The snow flakes look like pigeons. Julia - sweet Julia - gone too - found it in some junk shop years ago & gave it to me to remind me of home. I had told her that on my 1st visit to New Orleans, Grandma Rose had taken Sis & me to the cathedral. I was all of about eight and had my Sunday-go-to-meetin' clothes on, and a damned pigeon shit in my hair. I also have Tiger back. They thought it might have been Kat's, but it was mine. Uncle Roscoe got him for me after my real tabby cat got run over. He's singed and filthy dirty, but a tumble in the washing machine will freshen him up. Never realized how much that damned stuffed cat meant to me. I cried when I saw him. Fr. Thomas said they're finding other things intact, like door knobs and brass fixtures, even some wine glasses. They are consecrating everything and as much as possible will be used in the new house. I told him that if they find any pieces of Derek's piano to save them for us. I think, other than his sword and ring, the piano was more Derek than anything else. That's where he opened his soul.
I think Fr. Thomas and Derek were friends. He's hiding a lot of pain behind that stiff efficiency. He suggested, & I think he was speaking for the Ruling Council, that we get away for a few days until the service. It's to be a week from today - on the 12th - 1 month, but no announcement's been made. He said they hope to have things cleared enough to reconsecrate & officially break ground for the Chapel of St. Michael Archangel.
As awful as it is here, I don't think Rachel & I are going to take his advice. He said the Legacy would find us someplace private. But we all agreed, Kat too, that to run might give the monsters more ammunition against Derek. So we'll stick it out. David has gotten the SFPD to station a patrol car in front, which has helped. I think all Rachel has to do is bat an eyelash at him and he's round the bend.
I took a laptop over to Nick - he still won't budge. I told him that an old friend, Henri Savignon - we were both Derek's research and teaching assistants way back when - had called to offer me a position at the Sorbonne. He's a professor of anthropology there. He suggested that I could get my Ph.D. while assisting him with his classes and preparation of his latest book. It's a thought.
Nick even mentioned something about the possibility of re-uping - going back to the SEALs, but he's not sure he could hack it now. I don't think he's serious - he's too much his father's son, and Dereek's. I think it's just cold reality setting in.
Nick and I were so sure that we would continue Derek's work - rebuild his House in his name, but it's all so empty without him. I don't think Derek foresaw this. He tried to provide for us financially and to give us a home in the Legacy. I think he hoped we would find comfort and strength in each other and the determination to carry on, but it's not happening. Rather than getting better, it's getting worse. I don't think he understood how much he meant to us - he was our anchor - no, maybe that's not the right word. He was our heart and soul - not that House, not the Legacy, but Derek Rayne. As always, he underestimated the value of his own life. Maybe if he had seen how much we really needed him, he would have found another way. I'm so tired. Nick is too - I see it in his eyes. Why fight when all we face is loss and more loss? How did Derek do it all those years? How did he carry on after Sloan? And Carmack? And Jane Witherspoon, Megan, and Kristin? And his father, and all those others.
I pray that Nick will dig into himself and find the strength that I know is there. It scares me that he won't. Nick used to joke that he had been bound for San Quentin, but had taken a detour a couple miles south to Angel Island thanks to Derek. It wasn't really a joke. I don't know how I can help him, when I can't help myself.
Still nothing from Philip. The Monsignor says he's gone into retreat, but Fr. Thomas says he hopes Philip will come to assist at the service. We are all so alone, each locked in our own empty prison. We can't help ourselves, and we can't help each other. Oddly, of us all, only Rachel seems steady - she has Kat and her patients to consider, and now maybe David Royce. She's decided to continue as an advisor with the Legacy and will remain on Luna's board.
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It's so difficult for me to write now. It's just not there anymore. Nothing is there anymore. I think my heart has been burned to a cold, dead cinder. I don't think I'll ever care about anything else ever again. I don't think I'll ever want anything again. Will there ever be meaning again, I wonder. Or will I simply struggle along trying to find things that I can convince myself have meaning - just to occupy the next 50 odd years. Is this what most people face? All those people who work at fast food places, sit at computers all day, guard empty stores at night. Was I kidding myself into believing that there is meaning in any of it? I'd go Ingrid's route, if I could believe in anything again. I wish to God my "Sight" was gone - I wish I could amputate it. I wish it had never existed. It never did anybody any good. It didn't give me a clue about what was happening with Derek - it never really did with him - never anything clear about what was inside him - just fog. I can tell by the way they all look at me - their eyes say "Why didn't you stop him? You're the psychic, Alex Moreau, why didn't you foresee it? Your 'Sight' failed and Derek died." Why couldn't it have shown me just this once? I'd have died for him, but, dear God, I was more upset with the idea that he might destroy the house. It was our "home". It meant so much to him & I didn't want to see him hurt that way. It didn't even occur to me that he'd destroy himself with it - that he was trying to say good-bye. Hell, I shouldn't have even needed my "Sight" to tell me that - all I needed to do was listen to what he was saying. I knew him well enough. I could have anticipated. Hell, he did it before - not even 3 yrs. ago. He shot himself rather than put us at risk. Maybe he was speaking from the heart when he talked to Rachel - maybe he was too tired to go on. I'm already there. How did he go on for so long? I don't think I've got it in me - Derek's strength and clarity of purpose were the sources of my own - now it's all gone. Derek told me to live for him. I'm not even sure I want to live for myself. Dear God, why couldn't You have taken me instead? My loss would be no great thing, but Derek's has left a hole the size of Meteor Crater. Why didn't You, why didn't he let me go with him?
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