| Disclaimer: Mark, Roger, and their friends belong to Jonathan Larson, I�m just borrowing them to torture, scath, scar, and have my way with them. Lyric, Jenny, and...um, anyone else that I made up are...mine. ::sweatdrop:: Oh, and I�ve taken some "creative" medical and political liberties, but who knows what will happen in 10 years. The quote is Suzanne Vega from the song "Marlene on the Wall". I don�t own that either, altho I wish I did, cuz the song is so spiffy. The title is yet another steal from the Barenaked Ladies. The song it�s from is "You Will be Waiting". Go buy all their albums right now. Note: This takes place 10+ years in the future. Deal with it. Roger dyed his hair. Deal with it. Oh, and do I even have to mention that it�s got loads or M/R and you need to deal with that too? letting you go free by kaitlyn sudol and i tried so hard to resist - when you held me in your handsome fist - and reminded me of the night we kissed - and of why i must be leaving He had forgotten how cold November was on the east coast. New Mexico had lulled him into a sense of calming comfort. 10 years had left him ignorant to the stark changes of northern weather. He was explaining all of this to his companion as they entered the small caf�, bundled in thick winter coats and scarves, laughing over events long since past, stories he told of his young and na�ve adventures in New York City. They amused the pretty redhead with him to no end, seeming so vague and foreign....almost surreal. She knew no world outside of Santa Fe and she had never left the state of New Mexico up until the day the record producer left a message on the young man�s machine. The next night they were on a plane to LA to discuss a deal with producers and soon were touring all of California to small, but packed theaters and stages. The experience had taught her much, especially about her dark haired companion and their bandmates. Still, there was much she didn�t know about him, much he had changed, and much he had kept quiet. She was curious about him, of course, but was afraid to push too much for fear he would withdraw from her. She couldn�t live with herself if that were to happen. She cared too much about him to see him hide himself away again. It wasn�t just a childish attraction or an attraction at all. She could never love a man in that way, nor he a woman. Well, he had never loved anyone that way, at least, that she knew of. There were vague illusions to his past that included sketchy references to friends and lovers, but again, she wouldn�t push. Nor would he. Although he tried to act aware and content and jokingly reminiscent, he was scared, deep down. He was scared of this too familiar caf�. He was scared of the city where he had such memories. He was scared of bumping into someone he knew, someone who remembered him, someone he remembered. He was scared of facing the life he left behind. �Roger, are you listening to me?� He turned his head quickly, slipping seamlessly back into his smiling fa�ade and pushing the disquieting worries out of his head. �I asked when you were here last and if it had changed at all.� Roger glanced around the Life Caf�, smiling slightly at it�s lack of change. �Ten years almost to the day,� he mused. �Ten years this past September since the last time I was in this city...this caf�.� He took a seat near the door and pulled off his leather duster and scarf. �You�ll love this place, Lyric, they�re health nuts.� She laughed and took off her own jacket and earmuffs, placing them on the back of a chair across from Roger. �I�ll feel right at home, huh?� she joked. Roger grinned, running a hand through his deep black hair. �Why don�t I get us some drinks and you can order?� Lyric bit her lip, her eyes not leaving him as he contemplated this. He was hiding his feelings from her again and doing a horrid job of it. She had grown introspection things would work themselves out. If she left him to his own devices, even for as long as it took for her to get some drinks at the bar, he would settle things himself and they could move on. �Okay,� Roger finally agreed. �That sounds pretty good. Just...get me a coffee or something.� Lyric mentally sighed with relief. �I�ll be right back!� she called over her shoulder as she picked through the moderate crowd and over to the bar. She glanced over her shoulder only once, seeing that Roger was staring into space above an obviously memorized menu. She sighed to herself and made her way over to the bar. Mark was tired. He wasn�t just exhausted and sleepy. It wasn�t just the aching in his muscles and heart. It wasn�t his depression or his discontentment. It was more than just those things. It was all of those things and more. He was tired of waiting. Tired of spending every night for ten years in the same caf� with the same people, waiting for the same missing entity to return to him. Ten years. That was long, much too long for Mark�s liking. He wanted to get past that dark morning ten years ago. He wanted to move forward, to convince himself that his missing friend wasn�t out there at all. That the virus that had it�s hold on him had destroyed him before the treatment hit the market. He wanted to convince himself that his old friend was forever gone from his life. That he could leave this restaurant...this city. He could pick up and move to California and be with his producer and constituents. He could be with the others who shared his profession and interests. He could be out of this dreary impersonal city and on to bigger and better things. He could put New York behind him completely and leave with a clear conscience. But here he was. The same loft apartment although, admittedly, it was much more inhabitable with the heat and central air and electricity and furniture that he had obtained. The same caf� that he had been to every night for ten years, and countless nights beforehand. The same routine he had always followed. He was afraid of change. He was afraid that his companion would return to an empty apartment or a caf� where no one knew him by name. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn�t let him go. He couldn�t get him out of his head...more importantly, his heart. He still spent sleepless nights wondering where he was...what he was doing. If he had found someone else... He pushed that thought from his mind. He wanted to spend at least one night without thinking of him too much. He wanted to get through one night and one normally conversation with the help without letting his thoughts wander back to bonds he was supposed to have broken a decade ago. �I�ll have another cup of tea, Jenny,� he said softly. The woman on the other side of the bar gave him a skeptical look. She placed the glasses she was drying on the counter top and sighed. �Don�t you think you�ve had enough?� she asked, giving him a concerned look. �You�re gonna be sweating and pissing this crap soon.� No response from Mark. He still held out his cup expectantly, his face the same indifferent hazy expression. �Jesus, go home Mark. He�s not going to come tonight. He didn�t come last night, or the night before, or the night before that. Just give up already.� Again, Mark didn�t change his position or posture. �Leave this town! You�re too good for this damn city, you fucking moron. Go to California. You can MAKE it in California, I KNOW you can." He remained motionless. He was used to her rant. He heard it every other night. For the past two years, as long as Jenny had been working the bar, he had heard it. It never changed his mind. Page 2 |