'I don't need to know why,
Cause tomorrow I'll be fine.'
Giovanni opened the door as he always had, quickly and without looking at it. It was trivial; everything in the house was trivial. At least, that was how he'd felt lately. Anything that wasn't related to his business was unworthy of attention. Anything that wasn't worthy of attention was background.
Turning around, his black eyes scanned the lawn quickly. No one there, thank God. At least Maria had let him off that much. Sometimes she sent them to watch him at night, and he hated it. They'd sit there all night, watching and waiting for God and Maria only knew what.
She was always pulling shit like that. Always called it a test, but he was getting sick of it. Sure, he wanted to be the Boss. Of that much he was certain. What he wasn't certain of was how much more he could take.
He turned around, walked into the house, and shut the door and dropped the briefcase he had been holding into a nearby armchair. Making no attempt to call to anyone else, he started for the kitchen. It'd been a long day. Hard, too, and not very satisfying at all.
The idiots at the office had been very challenging. As always, he'd been left to deal with it. God forbid Maria work at her own job. Just leave it to the guy working for the job.
He didn't mind the work all of the time, but when it was put together, he hated it. Never a break, never a compliment. The bitch always told him he'd screwed up somehow, even if it was only something small, and managed to overlook every good thing he did.
It was hell trying to get on her good side. His Boss, his mother. When he'd found her working there, or, more correctly, when she'd taken him in to work, he'd been shocked. Anger had followed that one. Not because he thought it was wrong, but because she had left their family years ago.
She'd told him what she had wanted to give him though. About the power that he could be given, the unlimited amounts of power. Somehow, somewhere along the line, he'd become entangled in that net. So there he was, working like a dog for the Team, working to prove himself worthy.
Still, he was getting closer. He could feel it. And he knew that if it lasted too much longer, he'd get rid of her himself. She was aiming him in the direction of being a mass murderer, so wouldn't it be fitting that she be killed by him?
The idea held a twisted sweetness to Giovanni, and as he ran his fingers through his jet-black hair, he felt that primal excitement that always came with thoughts of murder. The kind that came even stronger when the plots were darker.
That was the thing. He'd be let down every day, feel depressed, and then he'd dream. He didn't look like a dreamer; his hard features would never have relayed that fact. He was, though, and there was no real use or sense in denying it. It was what kept him going at times, after all.
The dreaming didn't kick in as strong as he wanted it too, however. Maria's sneering voice broke into his head, "You stupid asshole! Can't you do anything right?"
No, dreaming wouldn't do it. The day had been too long, and he was too tired. That voice gnawed at his mind, and he wanted it to be gone. It continued, though, it that sharp tone of voice. "Idiot! Did you think I wanted it done like that?"
Still, there was something he could do. He strode into the kitchen and opened one of the cabinet doors, reaching for a glass. He had pulled it out and set it on the counter when he realized that the house was too quiet.
'I should learn to be still.'
"Ashley?" he called out, not even noticing the roughness in his voice. He had acquired it from Maria herself. It was a tone of authority, one that could scare the hell out of the individual it was directed at.
There was no reply, and he was immediately worried. Not on the surface, not at any measure he could really feel. It was there all the same, though. Deep within him, he was afraid.
On the surface, he was ticked off. Ticked off because he had been taught that he should never be afraid, and so he ignored his inner emotions, the ones that were true. Why didn't she answer?
"Ashley!" this time it was an intentional command. "Get down here!"
Had she gone somewhere? Certainly not… She never left before unless she told him. Maybe it had been an emergency. Even so, she would've called him. The woman couldn't seem to do anything without his approval, or at least his knowledge that she was doing it.
Something was wrong. She wouldn't have forgotten to call. That fear inside him grew, and he pushed it aside more forcefully. Maybe she was just sleeping… Of course, that was it.
With that growing feeling of worry, he walked out of the kitchen and to the living room. Ashley wasn't in there. Still, he tried to reassure himself by the knowledge that if she had decided to take a nap, she wouldn't have slept on the couch. She'd be in their bed.
He left that room and headed slowly up the stairs. With each step, he felt that dread progressing. He knew, though not in the front of his mind, that soon it would take him. There was a limit to what he could stand and be hard against, and he was approaching it more rapidly than he ever had before.
As he opened the door to their bedroom, he clenched his teeth without knowing it. When he looked inside and saw that she was gone, he felt something inside him start to tear. That border between overcoming emotions and being overcome by them came closer, so close he could reach out and almost touch it.
Where was she? Not in the room, on Jesus, she wasn't in the room… Maybe she was in another room!
In Giovanni's mind, it made sense. He disregarded the fact that he had called for her. After all, maybe she had been busy. Maybe she had been unable to reply. His mind also disregarded the fact that she had never done that before. She had always answered, no matter what.
He strode past the open bathroom door. She wasn't in there, one glance told him that. Ash's bedroom was up ahead, and he opened the door…
Disappointed again, and the line edged forward ever so slightly. She wasn't there. In fact, neither was Ash. What the hell was she doing with their four-year-old? The hospital? Despite his earlier objection to this, he found himself believing it now.
He turned out and pushed open the door on the other side of the hall. Ginger was asleep on her bed, her constantly too-thin body curled up with her head on her hands. Despite himself, Giovanni smiled minutely. She looked so innocent, the light of the rising moon spilling over her auburn hair…
The smile was immediately wiped away as another thought struck him. Ashley has left Ginger alone. She'd never done that before… Ginger was an independent girl, but Ashley had always insisted that she be taken along.
He closed the door silently, almost seeing the line in front of him. All that kept him from being pushed over was that idea that maybe, just maybe Ashley had decided to leave Ginger at home to sleep. Maybe Ashley had figured it'd be all right for once.
The hospital. He could call and see if she was there. If she wasn't, he could call one of her friends. No reason that he could think of for her to be over there, but he wasn't Ashley. He didn't always understand her.
When he walked back down the stairs, his walk was a near run, though he didn't notice. He tried to keep himself together, tried to stray from the line, as he entered the kitchen. As he was reaching for the phone, however, a piece of paper on the kitchen table caught his eye.
He froze as he was. It had been there all along, and he hadn't noticed it. Sitting there in the middle of the table, plain as day, and he hadn't realized it.
Giovanni suddenly felt very cold. He knew the paper wouldn't be any good.
'If I'd close my eyes, I 'd realize what you meant.'
With an effort that was almost superhuman, her managed to walk over to the table. He was balancing on the line now, and he knew it very well. As he reached for the paper, the one that he knew held bad news; he saw that his hands were trembling slightly. He tried to make them stop, but couldn't, and gave up.
Instead he turned his attention back to the paper. Yes, it was a note from Ashley. It was her unique, beautiful script, the kind where the letters seemed to flow naturally. It was the way she had always written, but this wasn't a conventional note.
He had been right. It was bad. He read it in disbelief, than re-read it twice.
"Gio, I don't want to do this, but I have to. I've been trying to tell you. Take care of yourself and Ginger. I couldn't take her. Maybe we shall meet again someday. Farewell, my love."
Was it a joke? Was it something that she honestly meant?
He couldn't tell, it was too much. The whole thing… Oh Christ, what was it?
He read it again, trying to make sense out of it. Trying to make a sense that wouldn't hurt terribly.
'I don't want to do this, but I have to.' Didn't want to do what? Leave a note? Tell him something? What? What did she mean by that? Why didn't she explain?
'I've been trying to tell you.' Trying to tell him what? What was she talking about? What had she been trying to tell him about?
There was no use hiding from it, though. He knew what she was referring to, knew it with a strength that was frightening. What else could she be talking about?
It was what he had been doing. He'd never told her all the details, but she had figured out more than he had wanted her to know. She'd told him to stay away from crime. She'd warned him over and over that it would come to no good.
Every day for a long time she had tried to persuade him to stop. He'd listened politely, nodding in the right places, maybe promising to do something he didn't intend to do. Then he'd change the subject, and that had been that.
After that, she'd started to beg. She'd done it so often… Hell, she'd done that nearly every day, too. She had seemed desperate, but he had only laughed.
Often, she had told him that she was afraid. He had dismissed her fears easily. After all, what did they mean to him? They were nothing at all, groundless worries. Of course he wasn't in trouble! Wasn't that obvious to her?
To his relief, she had finally ended the constant begging. Every once in awhile she had brought it up, but she'd shut up about it after he had scoffed. Apparently, she'd given up on trying to get him to see…
Oh Christ, had she given up on him altogether?
'Don't wait for the sun,
It could turn black any day.'
He dropped the note as if it was poison, and, indeed, it felt as if it were. Now he realized what she had been trying to tell him…
She had been worried about him, yes. She had always been thinking of him, been worried, and been ready to help. Whenever he had wanted or needed something, she'd been there. She had loved him.
However, she had been afraid for herself, too. He didn't blame her, when he thought deeply about it. If he was involved in crime, than she, as his wife, could be affected.
And, of course, it hadn't even been that alone. She had been afraid for the kids. That was why she had taken Ash, after all. She hadn't wanted him exposed to any of it…
She had left Ginger, though. Why? 'I couldn't take her.' That was what she had said in the note. And that was probably true… After all, she had nothing to go on, did she? Maybe a bank account, maybe something of close relation to it. No real grounds, though.
Could she make it? Yes. She'd find a way, because she was Ashley. Ashley could always find a way.
But… but she had really done it. She had left because he had ignored her pleas. She had left because he had been insensitive. She had left because he had ignored her
She had warned him, but he had been too late. Only now was he realizing that she had been serious. And she was gone.
'I lost my head in the clouds,
When will this haze go away?'
He looked at the note again, laying on the table, and realized he hadn't broken down in anyway. It seemed strange, it seemed unbelievable, and for a moment he didn't understand.
Upon seeing the letter, that dread had bit him hard and he'd thought that he'd be unable to stand bad news. Now here he had something terrible, and he was taking it fine. Hadn't even crossed the line yet. Hell, the line seemed to have disappeared.
Of course, that was it. Everything around him seemed to have disappeared, or at least to have become foggier. That was it, foggy. Reality had become unreal, the truth had become clouded.
He tried to break through to reality, but found that he couldn't, that it was impossible at the moment. It was eluding him, but maybe it was better. He had always been told that having the truth was better than not, but he also knew it would come.
There was a noise from the entrance to the kitchen, and he turned around quickly, his heart lifting. She'd changed her mind! Ashley had changed her mind, she'd come back…
It was Ginger. Aw shit. She looked upset, her eyes red and wary. From the looks of her, she knew something was wrong. Not very old, not at all, but she knew. "Daddy? Where's mom?"
His mouth dried up, but he spoke anyway. It was that fog that allowed him to. "She went out for a little while."
"Will she be back soon?"
"Sure," he walked over to her, trying to avoid that note, hoping she wouldn't see what was in his eyes. "Now go to bed, sweetie."
She nodded, though she didn't look convinced. He'd have to tell her soon, but for now he couldn't. That fog that was protecting him was hiding any ability to explain, both to himself and to his daughter.
As he watched her walk out, he stood still. For the moment, he let himself live in the fog.
'I never wanted this.'
A few hours later he sat on the couch in the living room, sorting through a stack of papers that had been in his briefcase. It was work he didn't need to finish yet, but it was something to keep him occupied.
Up until then he had been holding out fine. That feeling that nothing was real had remained, and he had allowed it to. No problem there, after all. No emotions, no bad… right?
Suddenly, though, it hit him. The fog didn't just begin to thin out, it disappeared. In one instant, he was protected, in the next, it hit him. Just came crashing out of the sky and into his head. In that instant, he was shoved to the other side, far on the other side, of the line.
"Oh… my… God…" he choked, dropping the papers without realizing it.
It was real. All of it was real. Ashley was gone. Ash was gone. His wife and son… gone… and he had no clue where they had gone. They'd never be back, and the impact that had on him was unimaginable.
Nothing he'd felt before compared to this. His life hadn't been a great one, and he'd met with bad situations, but this was the worst by far. This hurt so much more, because oh God, Ashley was gone for good and he'd never see her again.
Never… oh God, wasn't that the truth? She'd hide. Even if he found her, she'd leave again. Because she had made her point and it was all his fault because he had ignored her but there was nothing he could do about it because she was gone and everything was his fault and oh shit he couldn't do anything because it had all happened…
His eyes wide, his throat dry, Giovanni stared blankly in disbelief. At first that was all, he didn't move, couldn't move. Then he felt the tears begin to slide from his eyes. Tears… that was something new… he hadn't had those in years…
He gave in and cried, uncaring of what he was doing. Nothing mattered, because Ashley had left him because he had ignored her for the Team. He didn't have another chance, she was gone for good.
'Now it's all I've got.'
"Why isn't mom back yet?" Ginger's eyes conveyed her worry, though Giovanni was hardly able to notice it. That pain hadn't left, and the fog hadn't returned.
He'd tried to sleep, but that had been impossible. Even laying in the bed had hurt, because he had been alone in it, because Ashley was gone. The morning had broken as he sat on the couch, having given up sleeping for the night. In some part of him, he was tired. That wasn't the worst, though, and he didn't even notice for the most part.
He had been debating whether or not to go in to Headquarters, and in the end had decided he might as well. Sitting and moping around the house wouldn't do any good, and he was hoping that work would take his mind off of Ashley.
So he'd walked upstairs to tell Ginger that she'd be home alone. He had no doubt that she'd be fine, and though he probably should've thought about it, any worry that he would've had was eluding him. In the misery he felt, common sense was little.
"Well, sweetie, she had to…" he had tried to refrain from pausing, but was unable to avoid it. "She had to take Ash to the hospital."
He'd lied. Well, he couldn't tell the truth, not yet, not until he was ready. And, judging by the expression on his daughter's face, she didn't believe him anyway. Still, at least she acted as if she did. "All right."
So he told her to be good, that he'd be back, and then he locked up the house and left. It crossed his mind that Ashley would've been angry with him for leaving their daughter, but that one hurt too, and he shoved it away. The less pain, the better. Or so he believed.
He got into his car, noting the absence of Ashley's and wondering why he hadn't noticed it the night before. Oh, he knew, all right. He hadn't cared. He'd never seen it happening.
"Don't think about it," he muttered thickly as he back out and started towards headquarters. "Don't think about it and you'll be fine."
Oh, he tried to forget about it, all right. Did it work? Absolutely not. How could something like that be forgotten so easily, after all? It couldn't. Uh-uh, no way in hell.
Barely noticing the other cars on the road, he kept his eyes on the road and his mind on Ashley. How could she have left him? How could he have let her leave him? Ignored every sign she had given, laughed at her? How could he have waited so long?
Somehow he made it to Headquarters without being hit. He wasn't sure how it happened, regarded it as a small miracle, in fact. He'd been paying no attention, and he'd come out fine.
He almost broke down again at that. Why couldn't he have had the same luck with Ashley?
His eyes caught sight of everyone he passed, and yet he didn't know he passed any of them. That sense of being elsewhere, of not listening to most of his body, was strong. Too strong, but he didn't care.
There was no problem getting into base, and once inside, no problem with the people he initially ran into. They meant nothing to him at the moment. For the time, he had no power. Hell, he didn't have power over himself.
As he walked up to the desk, he realized something that froze him in his tracks for the moment. With Ashley gone, with Ash gone, he only had Ginger left. Ginger and the Team. He had the Team, oh joy, the Team that had caused so much trouble…
He forced himself to walk over to the counter.
'Someone else is keeping time.'
"Good morning, Mr. Oak!" the woman at the desk was quite cheerful. Good for her.
"Good morning," Giovanni thought spitefully. "Oh yeah, it's a great morning!" He kept the comments to himself, however. The less these people knew about how he was feeling, the better. They could be scavengers, and didn't he know that too well?
"Do you have something for me?" he was surprised that he was able to speak at all.
"Oh, yes!" her smile brightened, and she reached beneath the desk. He watched her disdainfully. How could she be so damn happy? "Here it is." The woman handed him a file, and he took it as she nodded again. "Have a great day!"
Giovanni considered telling her to go screw herself, than decided against it. Better they not know, he had to keep reminding himself. Because if they knew, they'd tell Maria. And that bitch was never sympathetic.
That was the rule, all right. Members of the Team are never sympathetic. Always hard, always with their own ideas. Agents only needed to listen to their superiors. They would obey their rules alone. That was what they had been taught, that was how it had always been.
And here these people were looking at him strangely, he realized as he began to walk down the hall. Did he look distracted? He didn't know. He honestly hoped not, but wouldn't have been surprised to find that he did.
They were looking at him, and they were going to tell Maria. Oh goddamn, why couldn't they keep to their own business? Why did they bother with what he was doing? Why couldn't they just get on with their own lives?
"Why do they have to watch me," he murmured under his breath, not realizing that he had spoken out loud, not noticing the agents who saw.
'I think I'm falling apart.'
He didn't think he could stand it anymore. All of them watching, all of everything, in fact. The file… he hadn't bothered to look at it, and he didn't want to. It'd be another task to prove himself, although what for it didn't matter because Maria would never let him take over. She was doing it to torture him.
Of course, that was it. She was doing it just to do it. Maybe for her amusement, maybe so she didn't have to work. It was all part of her twisted plan to… to… to what? Maybe to make everyone stress out. Revenge?
"Oh…" Giovanni muttered, rubbing his temples with his right hand.
That was insanity. He knew damn well what Maria was doing. She was testing him, she was trying to get him to prove himself. She was simply very harsh about it. All of those thoughts about stress and revenge had been insanity.
Was he losing it? He didn't know. It certainly felt possible. After all, everything was losing reality to it. The people around him, even his thoughts, were taken on milky foundations.
He nearly walked into someone, and muttered a half-assed syllable that passed as 'excuse me.' He didn't notice the agent look at him, he hadn't wanted to look. It didn't matter anyway, not now.
What he did realize was that he couldn't work in the condition he had found himself in. He had to get control of himself, had to find a way to regain his full sanity. He didn't want to lose it. He couldn't lose it.
There was a bathroom up ahead, and he walked into it. There he stood in front of one of the sinks and looked in the mirror. "Christ."
He did look bad, really bad. As if he'd been through hell. That was what he felt like, when you came down to it. As if he'd been through hell and then come back, all in the same day.
His eyes were red, and not a bright, livid red. More of a dead, dull red. Somehow, that was worse. More frightening, in a way. Everything about him seemed to have that dead, dull look. It wasn't right, not at all.
"Losing it," he thought. "Lossssinggggggg it…"
'If you were me, would you do it like I do?'
There he was, looking in a mirror at an image he could barely recognize. That he didn't want to recognize. His emotions were tearing themselves apart. At least, that was what it felt like.
All because of Ashley. And where was she now? Where could she possibly have gone? To a friend's house? No, she wouldn't… Unless it was one he didn't know about. Because he'd called her friends the night before, and they'd all told him that they hadn't seen her.
They could've been lying. Of course that was a possibility. If she really didn't want to be found, and he figured that she didn't, she'd tell them to lie. Maybe he could drive over to their houses later, see if they really had been lying.
It seemed like a possibility, and maybe he'd do it, but he didn't think so. Because she'd be gone far away. At least, he thought so. And it wouldn't matter. He could beg her to return, but would she?
For a moment, he saw her standing behind him in the mirror, smiling, ready to forgive, ready to say she had only been kidding; she had only been trying to make him see. He turned around, "Ashley?"
She wasn't there, though. Of course not. Imagination was wonderful… He turned back to the mirror, feeling worse than before, knowing even better that he was losing it, at least momentarily.
How could she have left him? The question replayed over and over. She had been there the previous morning, and been gone when he'd gotten back home. Just like that. He hadn't seen any warning. Maybe he should've, but he hadn't.
Was she feeling as he was? Was she as torn, as hurt? He'd have though that the answer would be a firm no; that she would be happier, but he was wrong.
Of course she was feeling like he was. She hadn't had the shock, but she was still living with the reality. And reality was bad, reality was really, really bad. Hadn't he already learned that?
Yes, and he was still learning it. You learn something new every day, and he sure as hell was keeping that rule alive.
'Don't wait for the sun,
It could turn black any day.'
"Giovanni," a hard voice from the entrance to the bathroom. He didn't have to look up to se who it was. Howard, one of Maria's guards. Who else, on a day like that? "Madame Boss wishes to speak to you. She requests your presence in her office right now."
No questioning, no room for explaining. Giovanni had been expecting this, and anyway, he was too far gone to worry about it. "I know."
He walked out, not looking at Howard, not caring that the guard followed him all the way up to the office. It didn't matter. What mattered? Not much.
He was going to hear it from Maria, but so what? Life would go on as always. She'd forget about it. Maybe he wouldn't, but she would. Ashley… he couldn't forget her. She was gone, and it was too late.
As that hit him again, he winced. As he winced, everything lost a little more cohesion.
'I lost my head in the clouds,
When will this haze go away?'
Maria's hard face looked as it always had, pulled into that full sneer she always seemed to strive for. "What's wrong with you today? Just got in and already off somewhere?"
Wasn't that typical? Prime example of the inability to show compassion. To show anything but anger. That was all Maria seemed to be, anger. And oh God, he realized that he had acted like that. Almost until it had become a twenty-four/seven type of thing.
He'd picked it up for her, and conveyed it to everyone around him. That was why Ashley had left. Because he had been angry. Because he had seemed dangerous.
He was seeing it now, and his mind was echoing the phrase he hated. "Too late… too late…"
"Pay attention to me!" Maria snapped. "I want you to get back into your job!"
"Everything's clouded…" he hadn't intended to say it, and he'd intended to speak in a stronger voice. That was how it came out, though, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Maria's laughter hit his ears harshly, even through the reality he was feeling. "Clouded? You little bastard, I don't care! Just get back to work."
'I never wanted this.'
Suddenly, Giovanni was angry at Maria. Angrier than he'd ever been before, because she was so cruel, because she was so insensitive. Couldn't she see? "Yeah, clouded, you heard me," somehow he had found his voice and, though that reality still clutched at him, he felt a little better, strangely enough. "This isn't the best time, Maria."
That laughter again, this time even harsher. "Don't smart off to me. I don't care if you're having a bad day."
"Of course you don't, you insensitive bitch," Giovanni spat, and grinned in spite of himself when Maria looked abashed for a moment.
"Don't you call me that! Respect me!"
"I'm not in the mood, bitch," he enunciated the last word in an over exaggerated fashion, and Maria's deep eyes narrowed. Before she could speak, he cut her off. "Sometimes you can't help what happens, you know? And sometimes you can't help how you feel. Or have you lost all emotion? I'm going home."
He watched her glare at him, and than saw something inside of them that would've scared him had he not been feeling as he was. "All right, then, you can't stay here?"
He thought for sure that she was going to tell him he was fired. And he knew what that meant, oh boy. He'd fired someone before. When am agent was fired, he or she didn't make it out of the building alive. It's make sense if she did, he'd pissed her off, and that was her way of dealing with what she didn't like.
She surprised him, however. "All right, go home for the day."
It was a trick. Had to be. But what could he say? Are you sure? Really? Those would be chances for her to change her mind. Maybe she'd have them kill him on the way out…
"I mean it, get out. One who cannot concentrate is no good." No smile, but she was serious. Dead serious. "Don't let it happen again."
Still, something was wrong… Had to be. He started to turn around and leave, to take his opportunity. "Wait a second," Maria's voice flew to his ears swiftly.
Giovanni didn't turn around, but he did listen. This was it. She'd say it was a joke, right? That she'd been lying.
When Maria spoke, her voice had become smoother, and immediately he didn't trust it. "I may be an insensitive bitch," she said in that silky, laughing voice. "But you're becoming an insensitive bastard, and there's nothing you can do about it."
'Don't wait for the sun,
It could turn black any day.
I lost my head in the clouds,
When will this haze go away?'
Giovanni had nearly run out of the building. He didn't care what everyone thought; it didn't matter at the moment. He couldn't stand any more of that, not one more minute.
He threw the briefcase on the passenger's seat rapidly, than shoved the keys in and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. For a moment he thought he had forgot to put the vehicle in reverse, and was sure he'd crash into the wall. In that moment, the possibility seemed deliciously available, and he almost welcomed it.
It didn't happen, though, and he made it out onto the road again without crashing. "What a pity…" a wispy voice in his mind spoke quietly, thought there was a cruel steel to it.
Maria was right, that bitch was right and he couldn't do anything about it. He'd thought that maybe he could quit the Team, that he could get away from it. There were problems with that, though. The first was simple. He'd be killed.
Maybe not simple in the way most people defined simple, but it was. He'd be tracked down and shot, because that was the rule of the Rockets. Hell, the Boss was the only one who could leave, and even the Boss would be sought out by the employees.
That led to the second, deeper reason. The Team. Once one was stuck, one couldn't get out of it. There was something that drew a person to it and kept him or her in. There was no getting out, strange but true.
Giovanni knew this, and it hurt him deeply. Ashley had left because he was attached to the Team. He was becoming an insensitive bastard, oh Christ, Maria was right and there was nothing he could do…
The thoughts, those thoughts that were horrid in their truth, continued to play through his mind as he drove home.
'Don't wait for the sun,
Don't wait for the sun,
Don't wait for the sun,
Cause it could turn black any day.
Through all that I wanted.'
The house was empty. Well, except for Ginger. She was staring at him, her eyes red. She knew, she'd figured it out. Had to know…
"Ginger?" he ventured, though he barely heard himself.
There was no spoken response, he didn't think she could speak. Instead, she dropped a piece of paper onto the floor and looked up at him. In her eyes there was something that had been in his the previous night. Hope that maybe it wasn't real, that it was a joke.
Maybe it was a joke; maybe life was all a cruel joke. Giovanni wanted to convey good news, but was unable. What was the point of lying again? He shook his head slowly.
For a moment Ginger just looked at him, that hope flowing away slowly. Giovanni saw it, and didn't know how much more of it he could stand. "Oh…" she muttered, than turned and dashed up the stairs.
Giovanni watched her, considered following, than stuck with letting her be. It was better, somehow. She knew now, she needed time alone. Hell, he needed some, too.
Because Ashley wasn't coming back. She'd left because he'd worked for the Team. She'd left because he hadn't listened. It was at least the hundredth time his mind had played that, yet it hurt more each time.
It was his fault… He had ignored her… And now he was helpless to what had happened. What was done was done. All his fault…
Giovanni suddenly felt the world spinning. He was going to fall… No, not quite. That wasn't right, it was just mind shit. Those emotions were overwhelming him, they were hurting him…
And he had a feeling that they'd be visiting for a long, long time.